


Our Purpose In Rescue Found

by LuxrayOnAO3



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Timelines, F/M, New Game Plus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:08:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxrayOnAO3/pseuds/LuxrayOnAO3
Summary: What if the only way to save yourself and him was to do it all again? A fic where Byleth and Sothis take on a "NG+" route, but it actually changes the storyline as the pair of them, now entwined more than ever, use what they know to take on the events of Three Houses. Strongly to be considered "Porn with Plot", later chapters will make full use of the Explicit rating.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Sothis
Comments: 89
Kudos: 195





	1. The End

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is going to be a little experiment. For weeks I've had the ideas for this kind of plotline -- where a NG+ situation would actually radically change up the plot as a natural consequence of Sothis' Divine Pulse abilities -- but if you've read any of my other works, I'm just a shameless smut peddler. So, here's my attempt at putting the "plot" in porn with plot, and hopefully the end result will be enjoyable rather than just incongruous garbage.
> 
> Distantly inspired by Yosei Ranbu's "Another Again" Awakening fic on FF.net.
> 
> Yes, the main pairing will be Sothis/Byleth, but there'll be others, in time. Anyway, enjoy; these first few chapters will be a little bit of setup work, but hopefully they'll be enjoyable in themselves, too.
> 
> Key art: https://i.imgur.com/Yi8GgYB.png

One last look at Edelgard, Aymr raised, the Sword blazing in his hand; she nodded, understanding, final. No more words between them were necessary. This was it.

“The time has come, Rhea,” Edelgard spat, voice dripping with venom, her words a judgement. “I am ending this once and for all.”

Byleth’s eyes snapped to the flailing form of the Immaculate One in front of him, weakened, firing off wild, coruscating attacks that were now lacking aim or power. Off to their flank, Bernadetta rained arrows into the creature, the archer’s fierce cries screaming in tandem with Hubert’s sickly dark bolts of magic, creating an opening for their leaders.

The two of them leapt into action as a tortured, desperate roar shook the air, Edelgard and Byleth dodging pockets of fire as they ran forward through the blazing ruin of Fhirdiad, weapons readied for the kill.

_One good strike. Aim for the neck._

They sprinted forward, feet leaving sure prints in the hot earth. 

_Thirty feet. Twenty. Ten -- now --_

The two of them leapt into the air, their Heroes’ Relics trailing fiery orange as they streaked upward in synchronous arcs. Byleth grunted as he felt the Sword bite home, carving a dire streak through the dragon’s neck that splattered his arm and face with dark, hot blood. Next to him, he saw Edelgard deliver Aymr true, cleaving a fatal furrow before falling back, covered in blood.

The Immaculate One began to roar and flail, green blood gushing in a verdant geyser from the horrifying wound. Blood rained on the floor like water, and her two executioners ran quickly back, a horrifying death-screech filling the air as Rhea gave up the last of her life. The air was rent with rage and fury and the last hatred of the Archbishop; Byleth clamped his hands over his ears, the noise as painful as nails, before the Immaculate One fell finally to the ground with a thundering crash, splashing down in its own blood before going still.

A sudden silence reigned, the final throes of the dragon replaced by the roaring of distant flames in the rest of the city Rhea had ordered to be burned.

“Is it-- Is it over?” Edelgard panted, wide-eyed, Aymr going slack in her hand, her red topcoat covered in gore, slick and dark.

“Yeah,” Byleth gasped, “I think, I think we--”

He felt a sickening pain in his chest, the wrenching of a thousand shards of glass at his heart. He looked down, uncomprehending; in delivering the final strike Byleth had not taken a wound.

“-- w-what --”

The Sword of the Creator slipped from his hand as he clutched at his chest, the blazing orange of the blade immediately fading to bone as it scattered at his feet. Byleth fell to his knees, mouth moving frantically, wordlessly, trying to speak, unable. With a desperate, silent cry, he slumped forward onto the ground, face falling against the burning soil, unmoving.

_Rhea’s last laugh._

A scream echoed dimly somewhere outside of his skull. Edelgard, then. Byleth scarcely heard it. The ground pressed against his cheek, blood-hot, the more immediate concern. Hands gripped him, Edelgard’s eyes full of tears, her words lost to his ears in a din roar that became a buzz. If Byleth had had a heartbeat, he dimly supposed he would be hearing its last throes in his ears. Instead, it was a dim, oncoming silence. Perhaps it was fitting. Jeralt’s diary had said how his first days in the world had been silent. Leaving it unable to speak only made a twisted kind of sense.

Byleth could do nothing to respond. Unseen by the man barely clinging to life, his hair had faded to its long-abandoned teal, the divine gift fading from his body. Darkness crossed his vision, two dark patches swimming in front of Edelgard’s face, even as the wrenching pain in his chest dissipated, his body numb. His eyes slipped closed. _This must have been how Jeralt felt, at the end,_ Byleth managed to think, _it’s not so bad._

As he lost consciousness the last thing he felt was Edelgard’s tears falling onto his face.

* * *

Byleth opened his eyes. The hot embrace of Fhirdiad’s burning soil had faded away, giving way to a familiar dark, green-hued chamber. Cold flagstones stretched in every direction, a throne propping up a familiar figure at the far end. 

_The Holy Tomb. Or at least what passes for it, in where-ever we are._

The professor blinked a few times to verify his surroundings, before his hand shot to his chest, fingertips brushing over his heart gingerly, black cloth still drenched in Rhea’s blood.

_No heartbeat._ _No change, then._

As Byleth’s eyes were on his chest and his thoughts racing, he scarce noticed as Sothis took register of his arrival, the girlish figure perking up from being slumped in her throne, loudly yawning and stretching. Sothis hopped out of the throne and began gliding down the steps to meet him.

“It took you quite long enough to come here. I apparently cannot leave you on your own,” Sothis scowled. “I managed to stop time just before you took your final breath.”

It had been some time since Byleth had been in this place with the progenitor goddess, the strangeness of the space never failing to disorient him. He took a few tentative breaths as his mind considered the situation. 

_If time is stopped in the world outside, then..._

“Am I dead?”

“If you were dead, you’d know it,” Sothis shook her head. “And if you die, I die. That’s the drawback of having our souls joined, you know? So my intervention here has, as usual, not necessarily been altruistic. You are merely _near_ death. A state of affairs far superior to actually being dead.”

This fact did not give Byleth a terrible amount of reassurance.

“I should nearly die more often.” Byleth managed a thin smile. “It... It is good to see you again, Sothis.” 

The goddess’ face verged on the thunderous, before her expression slowly softened. She floated closer, inches away now, and reached slowly towards him; white-and-crimson ribbon trailed from her wrist as she carefully took his hand in both of hers. The cold, delicate grip of her fingertips around his felt nice; she raised them in hers and began to slowly rub his palm.

“Yes, it is,” Sothis said, quietly. “I have been with you, you know, all this time. I did not wish to… meddle, overly, in what had to be done. With my daughter. And you were no longer so lonely, so busy in your war, that you did not need me to keep you company. But seeing your face again, after so long, I--” Sothis blinked away the wetness at the corner of her eyes. “I have missed you desperately, Byleth.”

“What happened. At the end, I mean,” Byleth asked, his tone unsure, eyes searching Sothis’ face as the goddess touched his hand. “Do you know what happened, that we should meet here again?”

Her fingers tightened around his as she spoke.

“Neither… neither of us knew that Rhea could, or would, destroy the Crest Stone inside of you with her death. It was keeping you alive since birth, the last physical vestige of me that she had in her possession. The heart of a dead goddess, the object of her actions for as long as she knew. When… when you struck the final blow, she must have thought-- with all lost--”

Byleth’s mouth soured. “She burnt the city, Sothis. Rhea, cornered, and vengeful, and pitiless; I…” He took a steadying breath. “I am not surprised if she, with her last action, commanded her judge to join her in the grave.”

Sothis looked away, pain flitting across her face. “When the Crest Stone shattered… your life ended.”

“Ah.”

A silent beat passed. Ideas whirled across Byleth’s mind as he felt Sothis’ grip on his hand continue on his fingertips, comforting.

“But if the -- your -- heart was destroyed, how come you are still here?”

“Our souls are joined, are they not?” Sothis asked, tone tinged with reproach. “I said as much to you at the Silent Forest, so many years ago, when we had to escape a similar such fate as that we find ourselves in now! The destruction of my physical remains will never affect the bond you and I share. Though, I suspect it means you will no longer have the Crest of Flames, should we escape this. And my sword…” A heavy sigh passed the goddess’ lips. “Without the Crest Stone, it will be little more than deadweight in your hands.” 

“El would be pleased, then,” Byleth muttered. “The irony of having my Crest destroyed for our victory isn’t lost on me, assuming I live to see the aftermath.”

“Living to see the aftermath would certainly be preferable for both you and I, Byleth,” Sothis nodded. “Our current predicament is surely something to urgently solve.”

Byleth worked his hand in Sothis’, unsure, working through his thoughts, a small pause as he did so. Sothis looked at him, understanding; with everything they shared, she knew exactly what was churning through his mind.

Eventually, he spoke again.

“Is there a solution, Sothis? I… I was prepared for the end, only to awake here. I had assumed this was it; one last conversation between the two of us before... the void.”

“Impudent of you to assume this is the end,” Sothis grumbled. “I would not have brought you here had I not _some_ semblance of a plan. It is _not_ the end -- I will not allow it! I am the Beginning, am I not? You know of my powers -- they are not some trick! This will not be the first or the last time I have saved our lives. Though… it may take a lot out of me...”

Byleth watched as Sothis’ expression became unsure, her eyes darting away, her impudent confidence faltering, her mouth falling. 

“I trust you, Sothis,” Byleth said, clasping his other hand around hers, their hands held together. She blinked, taken aback, before she nodded slowly, reassured, looking up at his face with her soft, bright green eyes. Byleth felt a tug at his heart. Sothis had usually been so sure, so confident, on every occasion they had spoken. Here, she looked vulnerable. It made him feel peculiar, inside. _Well, that, and the threat of impending death._

Sothis gazed steadily into his eyes, unwavering.

“If… if for some reason I cannot save us, and it does not work, you should know, Byleth, I’m glad it was you I was put with. At times I have chided you like a mother and other times we have been the fiercest pair in battle ever to grace Fódlan! I know that you are a good man, loyal to your friends, and brave, and strong…” 

A light blush came over Sothis’ face as she continued her accolades. “... You’ve made difficult choices for good reasons, and helped others overcome their problems. And… well, you’ve made me proud.” Her lips curled in a shy smile. “Thank you, Byleth.”

Byleth opened his mouth to speak, conscious that his own face was burning from the goddess’ heartfelt words, closing it as he thought of something to say that was as meaningful in response.

“We did not choose each other, but we made a great team, Sothis. You have helped me figure out so much, and achieve so much more. And… if this is it… well, there’s nobody better I could ask to go out with.” A rare smile came to his face, too, Sothis blinking away difficult tears as inconspicuously as she could. “Though I hope we make it. Together.”

Sothis squeezed his hand, steeling herself, before an imperceptible shake of her green-haired head--

“Oh, enough of the words, it’s not sufficient,” Sothis said in a rush, before immediately her hands found his black-cloaked shoulders, and her face swooped into his to meet his lips in a kiss, imparting more than any words could. 

Byleth’s eyes widened in faint surprise, before he pressed back in reciprocation. Her lips were soft, warm, and shiny; a rush of adrenaline coursed through Byleth as their lips touched, a small noise of contentment escaping Sothis in return. 

_If this moment was worth a lifetime of living, I could be happy, I think,_ Byleth thought.

Neither of them wanted to pull away as their lips caressed desperately, years of an unspoken bond now material in the touch of the body of the other. Byleth’s hand pressed into Sothis’ hair -- so smooth and soft, cascading through his fingers like water -- as Sothis clutched at the back of his head, her body pressing against his as fully as she could.

“Sothis,” Byleth breathed, his forehead against hers as their kiss ended after a seeming eternity, their eyes staring unwaveringly into each other’s. “Sothis, I --”

“-- need say nothing more,” Sothis finished for him. “That is the benefit of being part of you, is it not? Oh, Byleth, but that we could stay here together for an eternity at the edge of death! I have been a poor companion to you for _much_ too long. If we escape this together, I swear that will change. With this kiss as a token...” Her hands found his face, her thumbs along his cheeks. “I know exactly your feelings match mine, in this.”

Byleth smiled as he felt her cool palms on his face; their kiss had driven a heat into him, not of shame, but of happiness, his cheeks matching the ones already carmine in Sothis’ face.

“I told you I should die more often,” Byleth smiled gently. “It is the absurdest time and place to admit this, but I would gladly be yours. Probably, I have been all along.”

The two of them embraced, arms slipping around each other’s back, one final, silent vow to each other. Sothis’ arms left him reluctantly, before drifting back slowly, brushing her tousled green hair behind a pointed ear, settling herself for the task. 

“The incentive to live is now more compelling, is it not? But I can feel the energy fading from me, so I fear we cannot tarry too much longer, or we will slip away together.”

Byleth nodded, understanding. “Yes. I suppose it is time, isn’t it?”

“Time does happen to be my sphere, after all.” Sothis turned around, a few feet away, her expression becoming determined. “The solution is plain, to me; you told it to me yourself, so long ago.” She took a deep breath, balling her fist, a last look into Byleth’s eyes causing the steel to come into her voice, purpose in rescue found.

Sothis closed her eyes and raised her hands, her form beginning to flow with the familiar wrenching energy Byleth knew from the Divine Pulse, symbols swirling around her form in coruscating arcs of white.

“Here, to the beginning, then,” her voice came, imperious, powerful, belying her small form, the true nature of the goddess evident in her appearance and tone as she used whatever power she possessed. “You and I. Let us see what happens with things anew.”

Byleth’s eyes flared as he registered her words, reacting in a flash to the meaning. “Sothis--”

A wrench in his gut, a flare of white, and the rest was silence.


	2. What It Is Like To Be Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sothis' plan comes into effect.

Byleth opened his eyes to a black void, silent as the grave.

Darkness filled his vision, dark currents flowing like the undersurface of a lake over his pupils, the absence of light textured like swirling water. This world was bereft of life. Light was nowhere, his sight surrounded. 

_ So this is what it’s like to be dead _ , he thought. _ It’s not like the stories.  _

He felt exhausted in every regard; it had been the same way since the end of their assault on Fhirdiad. It had taken every sinew and ounce of strength he’d possessed -- along with the heroic efforts of the Black Eagle Strike Force -- to even reach The Immaculate One; her involvement aside, dying had inconsiderately not eased the pain in his body. The mental meeting with Sothis had spared him the worst of it, but now he was staring into the dark, his body hurting--

At the realisation he was still sensate Byleth jolted upright with a start, mercenary’s reflexes flinging him up, the bedsprings creaking under the sudden movement. Byleth gasped down quick breaths as he felt the coarse bedding under his hands, an unfamiliar room in front of him, chest pounding with adrenaline at the sheer realisation of being alive.

_ Wait-- _

Byleth raised a shaky hand to his chest as he gulped down air, recoiling like he’d been stung, before he replaced his hand there, and felt his body.

Staccato drumbeats in his ears, heat in his skin, rhythm under his ribcage; with a hesitant hand, Byleth realised one thing with a tactile confirmation: that his heart was beating in his chest. The pulsing in his body felt bizarre; he groped the bedclothes for reassurance as the sensation washed over and through him, the man gasping into the dark as he acclimated to the new experience.

“I’m alive,” Byleth whispered, relieved, almost unbelieving. “How--”

As the new sensation of his heart pounding in his ears confounded his hearing, his sight began to adjust to his surroundings. Looking around, Byleth realised he was staring at some kind of bedroom; the room was near pitch-dark, only a faint light coming through the heavy curtains on one of the far walls illuminating the barest features of his surroundings. 

His hand groped blindly for some kind of candle or lantern, finding a small oil lamp at the bedside that he fumbled to light in the dark. As the flickering orange light filled the room, Byleth got a better look at where he’d ended up. His eyes roved over the cheap landscapes on the wall and the familiar amenities of what appeared to be a rented room. He noted two things; the first was that in the double bed he’d awoken in, someone was lying next to him, quite asleep; the second was that at the foot of the bed the Sword of the Creator was propped against the footboard, bone handle peeking over the wooden footboard of the bed.

_ One thing at a time. You’re alive, and seemingly safe, and your heart feels like a weird drum in your chest. Take it slowly. _

Next to him, the covers obscured a slight figure, obliviously asleep. With as careful a motion as he could muster with an unsteady hand, Byleth reached across the bed and gently peeled back the fabric -- exposing some familiar green hair plaited with ribbons that belonged to a particular progenitor goddess. Relief washed over Byleth in a wave as he looked gratefully at the unmoving form of the girl, glad that whatever power she had used had not taken her from him, or worse.

Slowly, though, his relief turned to worry as the light exposed her face; Sothis lay on her back, clearly exhausted, face drawn in and dark, unforgiving circles lying under her shut eyes. The girl did not react in the slightest to his investigative uncovering as she breathed gently, steadily, completely insensate to the world.

_ Thinking on it… I don’t know if I’ve ever seen Sothis asleep before. I didn’t even know she did sleep. Or even that she-- _

The girl looked haggard and terrible, though probably no worse than Byleth himself felt. Carefully, so as not to disturb her, Byleth gently reached over with his fingertips; as his fingers touched her cheek his mouth fell open, dumb. 

Byleth had never been able to touch Sothis before. At least, that was how he remembered it. It had been years since she had been with him, after all; perhaps he was just misremembering.

_ Maybe she used too much of her energy getting us here. Wherever ‘here’ is. But-- _

The man carefully replaced the covers around the unconscious girl, brushing the messy fringe from her forehead and stealing quietly away from the bed. Byleth moved to the doorway of the room, subconsciously rubbing his fingers between themselves at the memory of Sothis’ hair; he hoped that opening the door wouldn’t make a sound. Mercifully, it creaked open without noise.

Outside was a small hallway, the faint light spilled from his room out into it revealing a few other rooms with doors shut opposite. The rumbling sound of sleeping people snoring bled into the quiet hallway beyond their rooms. An inn of some kind, then. Byleth eased the door shut again, closing the latch on his side, before stealing back to the bed.

His body ached abominably. A reminder that he probably needed to rest, too.

_This place seems familiar. But I can’t place it…_ _No, it doesn’t seem like Enbarr. It’s too quiet outside. A rural town, or something? I don’t know._

As Byleth stole back to the bed he saw again the Sword of the Creator propped against the footboard.

_ Huh. I guess whatever magic Sothis used took this with us. Or maybe it followed her, or me? _

The relentless beating of his heart in his chest reminded Byleth of what Sothis had said.

_ “Without the Crest Stone, it will be little more than deadweight in your hands.” _

He carefully picked up the huge sword, holding it in front of him in a practiced, level grip, bone blade parallel to the inn room’s floor. With a tentative mental effort, he tried attuning with it, calling forth its power to--

_ Nothing? _

Whereas he’d expected the requisite flare of orange light, the blade sat in his hand, inactive; it reflected the lamplight dully back in bone-hued diffusion, reflected light reaching his eyes insolently. Byleth sighed internally. He hurt too much to investigate this any further, and judging by the slim light level creeping through the room’s curtains, it was the dead of night.

_ Sothis isn’t the only one who should rest, I guess. _

Further questions -- and further answers -- could wait until the morning. Right now Byleth felt like he could have slept for a week; the exhaustion pricked at his skull and chest like a dull hammer, beating him into submission.

He sat at the edge of the bed in the lamplight, realising with weary eyes that he was still wearing his armour, Rhea’s blood dry and dark in his tunic stiffening the fabric. With desultory effort Byleth removed his pauldrons and bracers, stripping off his clothes, possessions finding themselves into a messy pile at the side of the bed for the morning’s worry.

Stiffly, he slipped into the bed, Sothis next to him still asleep, unmoving.

Tired as he was, Byleth turned his head on the coarse pillow, lidded eyes staring at Sothis’ sleeping face as he drifted off himself, the distant memory of their kiss flashing in his mind.

_ Was that real… or am I misremembering that, too? _

Byleth grasped her left hand, their fingers intertwining as he slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

The Immaculate One began to roar and flail, green blood gushing in a verdant geyser from the horrifying wound it had been dealt. Byleth looked desperately at Edelgard, the woman being rained in the blood of the Nabatean, her expression panicked--

“Edelgard!” Byleth screamed.

The Emperor pivoted on a foot, looking upward to the dying throes of the Immaculate One. Blood spattered downwards, a condemning rain of exvitality that showered Edelgard in viscera. Rhea’s flailing corpse, so vehemently opposed to him and his, jerked in all directions, before settling on Edelgard’s trajectory, and then -- 

“EL! MOVE!”

Edelgard’s legs wavered under her, the woman letting out a sharp scream as the ruptured  body of the Immaculate One continued down, her stupid feet immobile--

Byleth felt his throat hoarse with warning, sprinting forwards as Edelgard was rooted to the spot, holding up Aymr to the falling dragon as if it would save her.  _ Faster-- she’s nearly-- _

With a defiant roar Byleth threw himself at Edelgard, knocking the Emperor off her feet, hopefully back far enough; as he scrambled up the shadow of Rhea fell over him, and the rest of was crushing blackness. 

* * *

Byleth awoke with breath choking the back of his throat, his chest working, heavy. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, a weight compressing his chest, his eyes shooting down--

Sothis’ green hair cascaded over his stomach as the girl’s head lay on his breast, her hands loosely gripping his torso, thumbs loose over his ribs.

With a conscious effort, Byleth slowed his panicked breathing as he woke from the dream, so as not to wake the goddess asleep on his chest. The sensation of his heart beating so quickly mildly disgusted him, heaving chest gradually slowing to a controlled rhythm.

_ Yuck. But… It’s probably a small price to pay for being alive. _

He pulled the pillows up behind his head and looked down at Sothis in the morning light; she looked more rested than in the night, the dark circles beginning to fade under her eyes, though she still looked utterly spent. As Byleth watched her dozing and assessed her condition, she began to stir slowly. Sothis’ eyelids fluttered, the long green lashes slowly flickering open, levering apart to look directly at him with a direct stare.

“Byleth…” her first word, before she blinked back tired tears. “I.. we…“

His hand found her shoulder, the navy fabric of her dress yielding easily under his fingers, damp from exhaustion. He gently rubbed her shoulder in gentle encouragement.

“Shhh,” he calmed her, “It’s fine… we’re safe, I think…”

Sothis carefully clambered herself up his bare chest, the weak tears still in her eyes, her elbows digging into the mattress; she grasped his face loosely and pressed her lips chastely to his.

_ No dream, then. _

Byleth took her face in his hands, kissing her back gently, thumbs wiping away what tears he could as she embraced his mouth with hers. Sothis’ cheeks melted into his fingers as they kissed, her flesh bed-hot under his fingers. After a few moments, Sothis pulled back, and buried her face in his neck as they pressed their arms around each other on the bed.

“I’m so tired, Byleth,” she mumbled into his ear, voice drowsy. “Did we really make it…”

Byleth stroked a hand through her sweat-damp tresses, green hair yielding bed-wet through his fingers as his lips met her ear, long green filaments parting unsteadily through his fingertips. 

“I think so,” Byleth said, voice low. “It seems like you rescued me once again, Sothis. Do you know where we are?”

Sothis’ voice was low, too, still not fully awake. “No… I don’t know… I used my power to wind back time as far as I could… needed time to solve our problem....”

“Whatever you did, Sothis, it worked,” Byleth murmured into her pointed ear. “My… my heart is beating.”

Sothis pushed herself up, hands on the mattress, looking into his eyes as wide as possible whilst so tired, disbelief evident in her face.

“You-- what--”

She blinked, uncomprehending, before recoiling into action, laying her head down on his chest, long ear pressed against his breast.

_ Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum… _

“Byleth…” Sothis whispered, her head on his breast, “how is this possible?”

“I don’t know,” he could only manage. “Thanks to you, I think.”

Sothis’ eyes closed as she nestled closer to his chest. “I will let you off; thanking me in the first few minutes of waking is so tardy, but it is sufficient. Though it pleases me we are here together. So that is thanks enough as well.”

Byleth’s fingers teased out her hair as he was content to lie under her for a few minutes, the girl dropping off on his chest a comforting sensation. For the first time since waking up  _ here _ Byleth began to relax a little. He would have been content to let this go on forever.

But daylight streamed through the curtained window, and there were more questions that needed answers.

“Sothis, I need to get up, as nice as this is,” Byleth murmured. “I should find out where we are.” He gestured down to his chest, faint streaks of blood from the battle with the Immaculate One streaked across his lower body. “And if they have a bath.”

Sothis made some unsatisfied stirring noises on his chest, her hands digging into his sides.

“If you must,” she whispered tiredly, “come back soon. Your goddess commands it...”

“I will,” Byleth promised, his lips meeting her forehead through her fringe, her forehead hot. “I won’t be long, alright?”

“Don’t be…” Sothis murmured, as Byleth levered her from his chest, into the double bed’s mattress. He looked down at his chest, muscles still stained with Rhea’s blood; not exactly presentable. Something else would be needed. Walking over to the wardrobe on the far wall more in hope than expectation, he opened the door to find a selection of whitish overshirts; slipping one of them off the hangar and onto himself. Byleth was surprised to find it fit him nearly ideally.

_ Wherever Sothis has got us, at least I won’t be naked. It’ll cover the blood. _

Easing open the room door, Byleth paced out bare-foot into the wooden hallway; the stairs creaked under his quiet movement, legs aching as he made his way down and about-face on the wooden steps.

* * *

The barkeep looked at him as he descended the stairs, waving in a friendly fashion as he came down into the common room. A youth of about twenty, flaxen-haired. Byleth watched as she assessed his tired condition, and put on a smile. 

“That bad, huh,” Byleth grimaced. “Don’t worry, it feels worse than it looks, too.”

That elicited a polite laugh. “Good afternoon, sir… Your party asked me to tell you that they have business nearby, but they’ll be back tonight, and that you’re leaving early tomorrow, so you’re to make preparations.”

Byleth rubbed his forehead. “Who? What was my party?”

The barmaid gave him a curious look, unsure. “The tall, friendly chap. Seemed like people were deferring to him. He left with about half a dozen others this morning. Something about getting travelling supplies. Not that I made a point of listening to their conversation, you understand.”

_ Ferdinand?  _

Byleth chewed on that one. “Alright, thank you. Was he with any women?”  _ Namely, Edelgard. And the rest.  _

“No, I don’t think you came in with any?”

_ Huh. No worries. Guess we’ll need to wait and see. _

“No matter. Thank you. Do you have a bath available?”

“Yes, it’s in the basement. Down the stairs again and to the right. Knock and see if it’s free. You will need to pump and heat your own water, though.”

“Thanks,” Byleth nodded. “I’ll check it out promptly, then.”

_ Should I ask where we are?  _ Byleth rubbed his temples.  _ No. If we’re waiting on friends, I’ll ask them when they’re back. For now I want to get clean. _

He excused himself, the girl behind the bar staring slyly at his bare legs as he walked back to the stairs. Byleth went down to the basement, finding the door that had been mentioned; after no response from a few knocks, he eased the door open to find a serviceable copper tub, a pump, and a large boiling pot in the corner that only needed filling to start heating water. 

Byleth made his way back up to inside the room, finding Sothis spreadeagled on the bed. She was dozing, hugging the space he’d been lying, still warm in the sheets.

“Wakey wakey, goddess,” Byleth shook her shoulder gently. “Bathtime.”

“Your presumption that I will move from the bed is very insolent,” Sothis murmured, face down. “However, I will allow it. If you carry me.”

He had to laugh at that.

“Anything to prove my devotion, hm? Alright. But you need to roll over, unless you want to be fireman carried, and somehow I doubt that will make for a great first experience back in reality.”

Sothis rolled over, arm theatrically thrown over her forehead in mock-reluctance. Byleth picked her up, bridal-style, the girl draped over his arms. He was glad to find she weighed very little; his muscles wouldn’t have agreed with a hundred-pound goddess, right now.

Byleth took care on the stairs, navigating so as not to scrape the bundle in his arms against the wall or the bannister. After a careful and controlled descent, Byleth managed to carry her across the threshold of the bathroom, setting her down on a stool as he locked the door behind them.

“It’ll be some minutes before the water is hot,” Byleth said, arms already aching at the prospect of pumping forty litres of water. “Amuse yourself whilst I do the hard work.”

“I believe I shall do just that,” Sothis grinned, kicking her bare heels back-and-forth under the bench, content to watch Byleth work, the air filling with the squeak of iron and the rhythmic rushing of water.

“So, did you ascertain any information about our current whereabouts?” Sothis asked.

“Apparently a party is waiting on us and will return this evening,” Byleth replied. “I thought we’d save any further questions for them, rather than cause a scene by asking things any reasonable person would already know.”

“Interesting,” Sothis mused. “Any idea who, perhaps? If we have lucked into some old companions, we will have done well indeed.”

“Sounds like Ferdinand, I think. Though who is with him, I don’t know. We’ll find out later.” Byleth stoked the fire under the water-heater, before standing up, stretching his tired back. 

“Also, it seems you were right about the Sword of the Creator,” he explained. “I couldn’t do much with it when I came to. It… I don’t know, it just wouldn’t respond, but I suppose it tallies with what you said.” Byleth grimaced; he would need a new weapon. “Hopefully whoever we’re supposed to be travelling with has something I can use in the meantime, or I can head out into the village later and pick up something. It’s a shame, though of course I’d rather be alive than have the Relic.”

“That is indeed a shame, Byleth; I had liked the idea that you were fighting with it,” Sothis pouted. “If anyone was going to put it to use, I was glad it was you. But-- no matter; as you say, getting away with our lives is much more important.”

The water in the large cauldron came to a boil, and Byleth started pouring it out with the bucket provided, steam starting to fill the room as the copper tub sloshed bucketful-by-bucketful into filling. 

“See if there is any soap around, Sothis,” Byleth asked her. “Don’t get in yet, though, it’ll be way too hot.”

Sothis yawned, standing up and looking around. On a table at the far end she found a jar full of what looked to be dried soap flakes; she picked up a handful and scattered them into the bath, tiny snowflakes of white scattered like a blizzard by the next bucketful of water shortly afterwards. She watched them dissolve slowly.

“Since you have done all the hard work, I will permit you to get in first.”

Byleth looked at her, a heat rising in his face that had less to do with the steam rising from the bath. “I… I rather thought we might get in together…”

Sothis let out a quiet squeak, an immediate blush rising in her face and ears as she thought about the idea; Byleth saw her reaction and immediately backtracked. “I mean, we don’t have to--”

“No, I would definitely like that,” Sothis squeaked, rather too hastily, looking away to hide her embarrassment. “I would like that a lot…”

The awkward smile on Byleth’s face was mercifully hidden by virtue of the fact he went for the next bucket of water. “Don’t worry. I’ll wash the blood off, first.”

“That would really be preferable, yes,” Sothis agreed. 

Sothis busied herself with a detailed inspection of the towels as Byleth finished filling the bath, a few volumes of cold water just about cooling it to something bearable.

“Test it with your hand for the temperature, Sothis,” Byleth suggested. “I’m going to scrub off before I get in. Let me know if it’s too much.”

The goddess nodded, about-facing, hand trailing in the water and finding it markedly pleasant. “It seems very adequate, thank you,” she managed.

_ Adequate? _ Byleth snorted as he poured himself a bucket of cold water and found a brush. He began to strip off, the white overshirt slipping easily over his head to find purchase over the stool at the side. His boots and trousers followed, until he was naked in short order. Sothis stared at his back, red-faced. This was far from the first time she’d seen him without clothes on -- but, it was the first time she’d ever looked at him in  _ this _ way, the unspoken bond between them different now; and Sothis found herself heating up as her eyes roved his back, his broad shoulders working as the mercenary sat on a stool and began scrubbing the blood off of his skin.

“You don’t have to wait on me to get in,” Byleth called back, watching the ingrained blood froth into pink foam under the motion of the brush. It was quite unpleasant to look at.

“I… I would really rather you got in first,” Sothis said quickly. “Besides, I am quite enjoying the view--” 

Byleth blushed at that, even as Sothis’ hand clapped over her mouth, as if she’d just made some kind of life-threatening confession, which drew another laugh from him.

“Heavens, Sothis, relax! It’s just us. I certainly don’t mind if you want to look at me. Or even stare.” Byleth upended the cold water over himself, washing off the worst of the battle that by all accounts hadn’t even  _ happened _ yet.

He turned around, seeing Sothis pinker and more embarrassed than he’d ever before, and he felt a twinge in his newly-beating heart that seemed to shout nothing so much as  _ she’s adorable. _

“My turn, then,” Byleth said, shooting her a reassuring smile, levering himself into the hot water slowly, the steam feeling good on his skin. Sothis stood there, crimson, her own motions to disrobe not apparent.

“Do you need a hand?” Byleth asked gently.

“I am quite capable of undressing myself, thank you,” Sothis snapped. 

“I can close my eyes, if you’d rather,” Byleth suggested, doing just that.

“No, just…” Sothis fidgeted. “Try not to stare, okay?”

Byleth made a noise of affirmation, peeking open one of his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

Well, Sothis had asked him not to stare, but as he watched her turn her back and start unfastening the frankly ridiculous array of fastenings on her navy dress, he couldn’t help but do just that; it was about all he could do to keep his mouth shut. Sothis’ cutaway dress exposed her small, perfect back in pale skin, and as she slipped the garment down he was treated to the sight of her shoulders, shapely and delicate; the way her waist narrowed, and the deceptively wide hips that came after that; the soft, flawless texture of her skin that covered everything below. Byleth realised his mouth was dry and tried very hard to swallow, and as Sothis teased the last of her ribbons from her wrists before turning around, Byleth could do nothing but drink up every detail of her perfect form.

“Goddess…” he whispered, heavily-hot in the face, Sothis giving him an embarrassed smile for his efforts. “Sothis… you look perfect…”

“F-fine words from someone who completely did not listen to me!” Sothis flustered, walking quickly over to the edge of the tub. “Make room, now, idiot. I might be small, but so is this thing.”

Sothis slipped one leg into the bath between his, following it with another, carefully sinking into the water on top of Byleth. A squeal of delight escaped her lips as his arms swung around her, pulling her closer, his lips finding the back of her neck causing her to shiver, his warm wet hands wrapped around her side making her skin tingle.

“One kiss and you are lacking all politeness,” Sothis grumbled. “You shouldn’t surprise me like that… 

“You liked it,” he murmured into her ear. “It feels like an eternity since I’ve had a bath… not that I can say before, either, with such pleasant company.”

Sothis rolled in the water, her lithe form settling her head to rest on his chest, legs draped over his hips, the surprising warmth in her form discernible through the hot water. Her long ear settled on his chest, listening to some more of his newfound heartbeat as he rubbed her shoulders.

“This is nice,” Sothis murmured. “Mmmm…”

Byleth’s hand trailed water up the goddess’ back as she lay on him, his motions exploring her skin chastely. As he set his lips on her forehead and rubbed her free ear, Sothis let out a soft, sudden noise of pleasure that had him stirring suddenly underneath her.

“Ah -- sorry, Sothis--”

“No-- it, it simply feels, ah,  _ good _ , when you do that,” Sothis managed. “My ears have always been sensitive. And when you touch them, in this hot bath, it’s, ah, really good…” Sothis suddenly became aware of the physical affection Byleth was showing at his waist. “It seems like you enjoyed me making that kind of reaction…”

The mercenary flushed crimson. “Your voice was, uhm,”  _ Hot. It was hot.  _ “...very cute.”

“I… I did not consent to come here just to be toyed with,” Sothis protested, her hands on his shoulders now, lips dangerously close to his as water sluiced off her naked chest. 

Byleth’s hand reached up to her ear, taking the tip of it in his fingers, Sothis’ voice crying out gently again at the sensation, an opening for him to press his lips into hers; her reciprocation was eager, and her mouth worked wetly at his, ever-more keen with each infuriating, maddening caress of his fingers on her.

Byleth pulled back, his voice teasing. “Do you want me to stop toying with you?”

“N-no!” Sothis shook her head, redelivering her lips to his, a flurry of kisses thick and fast between insincere admonishments. “Ah… such liberties… useless mercenary…”

The effectiveness of these reprimands were counteracted significantly by Sothis’ actions, her hand snaking down under the waterline to grasp the hard part of Byleth that was digging into her stomach.

“Ah,” Byleth cooed, as her slim fingers wrapped around him down there, his desire for her evident. “That feels good,” he whispered, her hand beginning to stroke him under the water, even as her other snaked around his neck. 

The green-haired duo steadily grew more sweaty, the vapour rising from the bathtub less steamy than the actions of the two new lovers. 

“That feels good, Sothis, but there’s more I want to do with you. Why don’t you turn around? I have another idea; press your back against my chest.”

A few minutes of Byleth’s avid attention on her sensitive ears and neck had left Sothis an almost-drooling mess, and she knelt up in the water, panting. 

“Uahh, I, I don’t know who’s put you in charge, but o-okay…”

Sothis released his cock, and rolled over in the bathtub, sculling back to rest her head under his, Byleth’s hands running over her tummy.

“Just relax…”

The mercenary’s hand snaked over her flat tummy, Sothis shivering as his fingertips threatened to press dangerously lower. As the tip of his finger ran over the core of her, already hot and wet from the bath and her arousal, Sothis squealed shakily, hand shooting to his wrist and pressing him further against her.

“B-byleth, ahh, yes, like that, please,” she panted, head rocked back against his chest, his other hand working at her very modest breast. Byleth grinned, gently taking the tip of her ear into his mouth, teeth grazing at her skin as he began to move a finger over and inside her.

The effect was immediate. Galvanised by three fronts of pleasure at once, Sothis shuddered, squealing in short pants as her lover delivered a tripartite assault. 

“Ahh, yes,  _ fuck _ , Byleth, yes, please, it feels so  _ good  _ everywhere _ \--” _

The goddess shook in his arms as he continued gently caressing anywhere sensitive he could find, the way her inner walls were clenching tight around his finger extremely hot, the way her clit moved under the rest of his hand eliciting cute, Sothis-esque gasps with each motion. The girl had given up on her usual sarcastic demeanour, now a ball of divine putty in his arms, every motion of hers intended to give him better access to her body.

_ This is more fun than I’d expected. _

“I’d thank the Goddess that you feel so good right, now, Sothis, but I have her in my hands,” Byleth whispered, his voice husky. “Come whenever you think you should.”

Sothis was biting her lip, unable or unwilling to hold back for too much longer, but enjoying the sensation too greatly to justify coming right away. The way Byleth touched her was driving her to heights she had never imagined. Sothis had never touched herself like this, or indeed even felt the urge to; the fact that Byleth apparently knew intimately which parts of her felt the best just proved how in tandem their souls were.

“I’m, Byleth, I can’t last, but I don’t want to come yet,” Sothis squealed, an errant wave of water escaping the side of their bath as she trembled in his arms.

“Don’t hold back,” he murmured. “We can go again as soon as you want.”

The idea that Byleth would be happy to do just this all day at her request was too much.

“I’m--  _ fuck, _ Byleth, I, I love you, I’m, I’m c-c-mmmm--”

Sothis’ mouth articulated words less and less, until Byleth swallowed her ill-formed words with his own mouth, and as he slipped his tongue into her eager mouth Sothis came and came  _ hard. _

The goddess’ muffled cries reverberated through Byleth’s tongue, a part of him Sothis was currently sucking at like her life depended on it, her fingernails digging into his hands as the muscles in her full thighs tensed and she came around his hand. Byleth did everything he could to help her ride it out, and as the peak came and passed in Sothis, she collapsed back, falling against him in a sweaty, overheated mess.

“Haah, ahh, oh, oh Byleth, that’s, that’s not fair,” the green-haired goddess managed in a desperate recovery. “If, if you make me feel like that, you know, I’m just going to feel guilty for leaving you on your own for so long…”

“It was my pleasure, and apparently yours, too,” Byleth chuckled into her ear, his hands caressing her shoulders as she began to relax back into the hot water, the tension of her climax beginning to seep into the bath. “Like I said. We have all day to do this kind of thing.”

Sothis stood up in the bath with shaky, orgasm-weak legs, turning around to look at him imperiously.

“Come on then, you audacious whelp,” Sothis gestured upward with her hand. “If there are people meeting us this evening, I don’t particularly wish to waste any more of our afternoon anywhere but inside the bedroom. And more specifically inside the bed in that bedroom.”

Byleth shook his head as she splashed out of the bath and began to drag impatiently at his hand; for someone who had just saved their lives, Sothis would probably be the end of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first of the actual E-rated chapters I suppose; I guess you can probably understand what happens in the next one.
> 
> Hopefully you are enjoying the story so far. I'm hoping it'll be cute, funny, and hot in equal measure. Let me know what you think.
> 
> See you next time


	3. The Sweat on a New Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sothis and Byleth follow up their bathtime.

Bathtimes were overrated.

Sothis had scarcely given Byleth time to dry off before she was nipping at his neck and pulling at his arm, the two of them escaping back to their inn room in a flurry of towels and hurried footsteps, hastily piled clothes in each of their hands. The goddess eagerly let herself be scooped into his arms as he offered them to her in the bathrom, sore as they were; a princess-carry, girl towel-wrapped, the two of them kissing face-to-face before Byleth carried them from the bathroom and out of the door.

The swirling vortex of soapy bathwater gurgled behind them, and the door was kicked shut in a rush of soap-scented air. 

The goddess tugged longingly at the back of Byleth’s neck as he took them both up the stairs, long ribbons wet-in-her-braids trailing behind them even as she whispered into his ear. Byleth felt her gentle, small fingers around his back and shivered.

“Please, Byleth, it’s so overdue,” Sothis whispered desperately, their ascent hurriedly masked past the barmaid and further up. “I need you like nothing else. Like _nothing_ else. Please…”

“Sothis,” he murmured, “once we get to the room, we are not leaving.”

Byleth carried her upstairs with fast feet, hands around the damp towel around her body, becoming damper by the second. Sothis was not a large girl, but her hips and thighs were, and the towel atop his right arm was becoming damper than the other as her thigh pressed against it, the water leeching from her skin, Byleth dug his fingers slightly into Sothis’ far thigh; the girl gasped inches from his face as she felt his fingers, tingles arcing through her to that most salient part of her --

He kicked the door of their room open, and shut it with a backward-facing foot.

Their door had scarcely closed before the pair were at each other’s lips again; Byleth, wordless, pinned Sothis against the wall in her towel, the girl’s damp tresses pressing against the plasterwork. An appreciative moan escaped Sothis’ throat as the mercenary pushed her against the wall, the cold plaster against her bare back but his hot body at her front; his hot mouth working at her neck as his fingers pulled off the towel around her, Sothis waving her arms, mouth committed to his, for him to do the same thing. 

“Byleth, ahhh, By--” Sothis gasped, between make-outs, “drop yours, too--”

Byleth shrugged and the towel dropped from him. Sothis, lips still met with his, unwilling to diverge, tried to look as best she could, his tongue in her mouth; Byleth’s body was toned, muscled and scarred, the most significant scar over his breastbone, long-since healed. 

“Sothis,” Byleth gasped, between kisses, “I want you like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Mmph, Byleth, the bed, yours, our bed,” Sothis urged, hands around his face, “take me to our bed…”

Byleth nodded quickly. “Sure, Sothis, with pleasure.”

His arms -- so strong, Sothis marvelled -- scooped her up, the girl squealing in delight as firm hands carried her over toward the bed. Byleth placed her down on the sheets and followed her down, his lips going straight for her bare stomach, a flurry of kisses coming up to meet Sothis’ gasping mouth. Her skin was bathwater-hot, slightly damp under his lips, the smell of soap and _her_ in his nose. 

Sothis let out a series of small gasps as Byleth peppered her midriff with kisses; the feathery, hot sensation of his lips tracing up her core with indecency followed by his tongue… Sothis was nearly rolling into the mattress with pleasure, _her_ mercenary’s mouth working at her physical core to drive her wild and tingly and _hot._

The unfamiliar staccato of Byleth’s heart worked fast now, the adrenaline of having Sothis in his arms like this so much better than the adrenaline that came from having to fight. As his kisses trailed warmly up Sothis’ naked body, lingering just for a little on her slight breasts, she dug her hands into his hair and made increasingly frequent squirms and small gasps. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, his mouth met hers again, and as they resumed their kissing, Byleth could feel himself straining hard against her thigh.

Byleth was _hard_. The goddess, part of his life since time immemorial, now gasping into his lips and her arms around his face -- what else was to be done other than kiss her back? 

“Sothis, I need you so badly right now,” Byleth confessed, his arousal evident, before his words were lost as Sothis reached down for his cock. Her damp fingers wrapped around his hardness so enticingly, testing his need, the girl moving her hand as she established his shape and size. She looked into his eyes with a fierce blush, the same urgent heat in her, too. 

“As the creator goddess of Fódlan it is entirely my wish to have this inside me,” were her first words. And then-- “ _Take me_ , Byleth. I’m unhesitantly yours.”

Byleth didn’t even need to think about accepting that offer.

He crawled further forward over her, Sothis’ eyes fluttering shut in delight as his teeth nipped her ear, the flesh burning-hot in his mouth. 

“Where could my goddess possibly want me?” Byleth teased. Her hand was still stroking him below. He didn’t think he could possibly get any harder than he was right now, nor could he remember anything close. Byleth suddenly remembered the bravado of some of the mercenaries in Jeralt’s company, so long ago; half-drunk tales of love and conquest told late around the fireside. He’d never been one for that kind of thing, himself -- but it was beginning to make sense. Thinking of it, Byleth had not shown much of any emotion, in those days. Now here was Sothis making him gasp and moan and _love_ her. It was a good change.

Then the green-haired girl under him interrupted his thoughts; she gave him a squeeze down below that made him shiver in adoration, a stolen breath conveying how good it felt directly into her ear.

“I think even you can figure out where I need you,” Sothis whispered. “Here…”

Byleth rolled forward against her hand, Sothis guiding him slowly against her entrance. The first touch of each other’s arousal against each other’s made them moan together in desire. Sothis bit her lip as she rubbed him against her soaking lower entrance, the sensation new to her. 

“Ah, Sothis, that-- you feel so hot--”

 _Idiot,_ Sothis thought, _you could have been doing this so much more with him..._

They stayed like that for a moment, Sothis continuing to press them together as they explored the sensation; completely pleasant, she was happy coating Byleth’s cock in her want, but at the same time, the goddess knew that going further would likely feel good, too. 

“Cease your idle chatter and make your way inside me,” Sothis urged, “and put your mouth to better use whilst you do.”

Her partner nodded, and as Byleth made the first tentative movement into her, she cried aloud into the hollow of his neck, hands grasping around his back. Byleth grunted in sudden pleasure; Sothis was supremely wet, but supremely tight, and she gripped his cock tightly between her inner walls. Byleth moved his hips, putting his mouth at her ear, as he continued to slip slowly inside his goddess.

His words came in a rush between frantic, loose kisses to his collarbone that drove him almost as wild as the sensation of her accepting him like this. “Heavens, Sothis, that feels, indescribable.”

The girl being spread around him groaned as he took her, the slow penetration of his cock unlike anything she could ever remember feeling. The heat bleeding into her was incredible, the way he was stretching her around him intense and welcome. His need for her, now physical and intimate, was something so possessive and lewd it robbed her of words. Sothis delivered muffled whimpers into Byleth’s neck as he kept taking her slowly, the length of him seemingly endless, before his hips met hers, and she had him all to herself.

“You fill me up completely,” Sothis marvelled, Byleth’s cock doing just that. Inside, a new sensation, the twitching tip of him barely brushing her cervix. “Of course you do... it could not have been any other way…”

“Tell me if it hurts, Sothis,” her lover whispered.

A ftantic shake of the head pressed into his shoulder. “N-no, it’s fantastic… start m-moving…”

Her brain was scrambling for words, everything sensible in her mind unimportant compared to him, and as Byleth began a slow, careful rhythm, muttering sweet moans into the same ear he was teasing, Sothis blinked back wet eyes.

At the same time, her legs desperately urged him into her. Sothis’ wide hips gave her more purchase as she used the leverage to get her thighs wrapped around Byleth’s hips, her calves wrapped around his lower back, her feet arching in unseen pleasure.

After teasing the girl in the bathtub, Byleth was more than a little wound up, and he found that as they continued their coupling his thrusts built, becoming faster and less tentative. The girl wrapped utterly around him urged him on with gasps and soft exhortations as Byleth made love to her; his mouth working at hers and at her breasts, his fingers digging into the impossibly soft flesh of her back: and as their coupling continued Sothis’ and Byleth’s cries began to turn ragged, more throaty and desperate.

“Goddess, Sothis, hah, please, make me come for you…”

“Haaah, yes, Byleth, yes, more, more, PLEASE!”

Byleth was more than happy to oblige, every cry and urging from her driving him wild. The heat was building in both of them now, their movements against each other becoming looser as they both chased the imminent climax inside them. The heartbeat pounded in Byleth’s temples, another strange, intense sensation adding to this wild plethora. Sothis’s delicate fingers dug firmly into his back as she clamped down around his tongue, sucking it desperately as her mind began to blank and the aching rose in her nethers.

“Mmmwah, Byl- Byleth, I’m close, please, touch me--”

The man inside her quickly obliged, and Byleth sent his hand shooting down to rub Sothis’ soaking pussy. His fingers quickly found her clit as he had in the bath, and as he began to touch her, still thrusting inside her, Sothis came with a shriek.

“Aaaaaaaaaah! Byleth! Now--”

Sothis’ eyes rolled in her head and her vision flashed as she came and came _hard_. It was impossible to think about anything but the pleasure as her hips bucked against him, and as she was tipped over the edge by the combination of sensations it was the rushing of blood in her head and pure pleasure and nothing else; it went on for seemingly forever, the way Byleth made her peak immense. She gasped blankly into his mouth, and then fell back on the bed, clutching at Byleth’s back.

“Aaaah, aah, come too, aah, if you can--”

Byleth didn’t need to be told again. Sothis coming around him like that had squeezed her around him, and he could feel the tingling in his body that preceded his own climax. With a yell of her name, he buried his face into her neck, hands pulling her body desperately into his cock as he pushed himself as far deep into her as possible before exploding inside her.

His own climax was no less strong, the panting, breathless girl around him rubbing his back in encouragement as she took his seed. Sothis groaned appreciatively as he let go inside her, semen spurting from his cock more powerfully than he’d ever felt, and as the warmth kept coming and coming inside her Sothis hummed in love and appreciation. It was the evidence he’d felt good from their love, and filling her up like this was new and welcome.

“Hah, Byleth, yes, fill me up, ahhh,” she breathed, the mercenary blankly kissing her neck as he emptied himself inside of her. “That’s, ahh, so good…”

Eventually there was no more to come, and Byleth slumped over her small form, exhausted. Sothis giggled into his exhausted, sweaty hair as his quick breathing tickled her skin.

“Hehehe… that was lovely, Byleth. It’s, it’s probably been a thousand years since I did that, I think. I do not remember, in truth. That could have been my first… so, please take it as such.”

Byleth’s response was a breathy, tired groan into her neck. “Mmmmmmmmmm…. Thank you, Sothis.”

Sothis smiled to herself as she stroked his hair, giving him a few moments to recover. When he came up for a kiss, his face looked flushed and sweaty, but his smile was genuine, and his eyes -- Sothis _melted_ at how he was looking at her.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t have been doing that so long ago,” she mumbled.

“I love you,” Byleth replied, a smile encroaching on his lips. “So don’t worry about that. If you’ve really rewound time, we’ll have some more together, hm?”

_Rewinding time…_

Sothis leaned into his ear and whispered. “Next time I’m going to use _that_ power to make you come more than once.”

A wild-eyed Byleth stared at her, shivering. “Oh, goddess…”

She’d look forward to that.

* * *

There wasn’t much to do after that but rest. Sothis slept on his chest again, the two of them having clearly undone the effect of the previous night’s rest. 

Byleth drifted in and out of sleep, her warm, naked form breathing softly on his skin. As the air tickled his chest, beyond any physical reaction, it made him feel warm inside.

Not knowing fully where they were, or who they were with, or perhaps even _when_ they were, Byleth should have felt nothing but anxious adrenaline coursing through him. His mercenary’s instincts should have been flaring in the back of his mind, urging him to find out more or get to safety. With Sothis on his chest, quite asleep, he felt nothing but a curious sense of peace. As she slept, clearly more tired than him, Byleth found himself stroking her back, the gossamer-soft skin there the best sensation he could remember under his fingers.

_Is this how Jeralt felt with my mother? It’s not been long, but I’m beginning to understand, I think._

Hours passed in this state of warm contentment, the sound of breathing the only disturbance, the lengthening shadows in the room a silent observer to the two nascent lovers resting together. As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the oranges and purples of sunset filtered through the window. Byleth stirred, knowing that they had to get up to meet whoever was coming back for them.

“Sothis… Sothis…” He gently called out, shaking her shoulder, the girl slumbering peacefully on him.

Sothis did not wake up. Byleth carefully slipped out from under her and laid her on the mattress. She could hear about things when she woke up; and Byleth privately harboured a suspicion about her seeming sudden corporeality. If she was physically visible to others, _that_ would need to be a conversation had once they’d got their bearings and found out where the hell they were and who the hell they were with.

Byleth felt -- was that a pang of nervousness? He shook his head; after defeating the Immaculate One, the idea of broaching that would be relatively simple.

He looked over to the Sword of the Creator, still resting against the wall. More out of hope than expectation, he walked over to it and picked it up, again trying to summon the active form. In a flash of mild disappointment, nothing happened.

_Figures._

As he slipped his clothes and armour back on as quietly as he could, Byleth felt curiously defenceless. 

* * *

Coming down to the bar, the young barmaid gave Byleth a sly grin and a wave.

“Enjoy your afternoon I trust, sir? I assure you, no complaints. But you might like to be a little more discretionary in your, ahem, afternoon’s work.”

Byleth blinked, and then balked mentally. _Oh, she means the noise. Whoops._ _Didn’t even consider it._

A few scattered patrons laughed at her admonishment. Byleth looked them over; nobody he knew. He nodded back towards the girl. “Sorry. Thanks for letting me know it was a problem. We’ll, uh, do that.”

The girl grinned. “Don’t worry. It probably passes pretty favourably for actual entertainment in Remire. Goddess knows this place is a dump, even with the monastery up there.”

Byleth blinked again, harder this time. “Remire Village?”

“Hope that girl left you with some wits… yeah, Remire, village in the Empire? Where you are now? Man, she must have been good if you don’t remember _that…_ ”

_We’re in Remire village, in the Empire. Okay, that’s fine. Perhaps we were headed to the monastery. I don’t think I’ve been here for years… but I don’t remember much..._

“Ah… no, it’s fine, I’m just tired, sorry. Yes, I’ve been here before. A few times.” 

The girl made some more small talk as Byleth glanced around the room. Darkness, flickering candles, a few scattered townsfolk supping ale and looking at _him_ ; it looked like a wholly unremarkable tavern, the shutters shuttered closed, his eyes roving over stoppered wood.

Byleth sighed; waiting, apparently, was the name of the game.

The mercenary looked over at the door, before doing a double take; no other person strode in following the others than Jeralt, the Blade Breaker -- his father. His _dead_ father.

Byleth spat his drink all over the bar. “Jeralt--!"

The barmaid raised an eyebrow. “Are you alright there?”

The teal-haired man coughed heavily, ale dripping from his nose. “Yes,” he croaked, knowing how insincere that answer sounded. “Could you give me a cloth…”

The girl rolled her eyes and went into the back to fetch something to clean up the mess.

Jeralt, seemingly having given the all-clear for his men to relax, joined Byleth, the puddle of his own making creeping across the bar. “Hey, kid. Nice going there. Never seen you do that kind of trick before. What’s up? There’s some reason your drink is currently dripping off your face.”

Byleth took the cloth from the returned girl and wiped his face, nodding hastily, before wiping the bar, the girl’s attention immediately taken by the crowd of mercs getting their orders in. “You could say that, yeah.” His voice sounded high pitched, not his own. “I’m… I’m surprised to see you. I was expecting someone else.”

His father raised an eyebrow. “Huh. Well, sorry to be a disappointment.” He gestured to a serving girl, and two mugs of ale were brought over and placed in front of them; a coin reflected the candlelight as he pressed it into her palm. “Here. Try not to spray this one over the furniture.”

Byleth took an unusually large gulp as he stared at Jeralt, wide-eyed.

“Don’t drink too much of their ale. I know it’s watered but if you’ve been sitting in here all afternoon, it’ll work just as well as anything else. Don’t forget we’ve got a job in the Kingdom tomorrow. It’s a long trek from the Empire. We’ll have to move at dawn.”

Byleth did a double-take. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, kid. What’s wrong? Forgot I existed whilst I was running errands?”

Byleth’s mind raced, a hundred possibilities presenting themselves, a mass of indecision overwhelming any battlefield situation he’d ever had to make choices in. His tongue felt thick and heavy, choked with saliva and sprayed ale, and he worked his lips in a vain attempt to articulate words.

_I need to see Sothis right now._

He forced a smile onto his face and shook his head. “Nothing. Just, you took me aback. Look after my drink for a few minutes, will you? I need to piss.”

Black boots hit the wooden floor as Byleth levered himself off the stool and quickly ran up the stairs.

Jeralt watched him go, scratching his beard, utterly bemused. “Did that kid just _smile?_ ” he muttered to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sothis and Byleth become more intertwined...
> 
> Who knows what will happen next?


	4. What The Hell Was That, Kid?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two wrestle with their plans, before the first battle of Remire Village.

Sothis was awoken by a quick and hurried shake in the dark.

Her eyelids slowly stirred open, the sleepy goddess rolling onto her back in a hot and tired fugue. Seeing Byleth’s wild demeanour, she sat up quickly, still completely naked as the cover fell away. Less concerned about covering herself than checking what was going on, Sothis crawled forward out of bed.

“Byleth! Calm yourself! What is it?” she whispered in a flurry. “You look panicked. Are we in danger?” Her arms, bare of ribbons or clothes, were flung around his chest quickly.

Her partner’s eyes were wild, and his heart beat fast against her ear, but he relaxed a little into her grasp. “No immediate danger, then? Come, tell me what is wrong,” Sothis whispered. She rubbed his back slowly, encouraging words to come out. Unseen, Byleth’s mouth worked blankly as he thought how best to word things.

“Jeralt is sitting downstairs at the bar,” he finally whispered into her ear.

Sothis’ head shot up to look up at him, wide eyes glittering in the dark, dimmed sparkling green betraying her uncommon surprise.

“Your _ father _ ?”

“Do we know any other Jeralts, Sothis,” Byleth muttered darkly.

“But-- fate determined that he was, that he died,” Sothis said, softly. “Before, we couldn’t save him from the wicked ones, as much as we tried.”

“I shed so many tears for him, Sothis,” Byleth said. “Seeing him alive again filled me with too many feelings. I don’t think I realised how difficult this journey might be with you. To see people again I’ve seen die, that I’ve  _ killed-- _ ”

“Hush, hush,” Sothis soothed. “You and I are stronger now. And so we will forge a better path, this time.”

Byleth nodded in the dark. “It’s like you said in that dark mindscape mausoleum, Sothis. Retracing our steps will be inevitable. You took us back to the  _ beginning. _ ”

Sothis looked at him, the realisation clicking in her mind. “I-- I remember now. That was the aim, wasn’t it? And that would have been the first day we met…”

“Yes,” Byleth concurred, remembering. “The first day you stopped being a girl from my dreams and actually spoke to me. Imperial Year 1180.” He chuckled, looking down at her completely naked form and blushing. “I guess today has been a totally different kind of first day together compared to all that time ago. Or relatively, no time at all. Since it’s technically the same day, or one day earlier. I don’t envy you, Sothis. Being the goddess of time must make your head hurt sometimes..”

Sothis laughed lightly at that, and she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “No less welcome, though perhaps with less castigation from me than you had so many years ago, hm? I must have awoken in a good mood this time around. Or perhaps your deserved verbal lashings will resume when I am less exhausted, hm? Still, your father. If he is alive, and we are at the beginning…”

Byleth sat back, hand rubbing the hair from his brow as he thought. Eventually he spoke.

“It means that tomorrow, fate willing, we have to relive that ambush on the house leaders from the Officers’ Academy. If that happens....” Byleth looked at Sothis. “Sothis… if the situation with Edelgard is the same in this timeline as the past, do you think… do you think we can save Jeralt’s life?”

The goddess blinked. “It would not be easy, but perhaps it would be right to try.”

Her partner took a while to respond after that.

“Byleth? I am sorry if I said something to give offence--”

“No, no,” he shook his head. “I, it’s just, if it would be right to save Jeralt… would it be right to save others? What if we could work to avert Edelgard’s terrible decisions? What if we could avoid a war entirely? What if I didn’t have to  _ kill people I liked _ ?”

Sothis squeezed him more tightly. “I wish I had stayed with you to speak and listen,” she whispered. “But I did not. I know the pain you went through, Byleth.”

He nodded, mute tears in his eyes. “It’s funny,” he eventually managed. “As a mercenary it was much easier to kill faceless people for coin. If I’d never met anyone from the monastery, I’d probably have been hired in Edelgard’s war and cut down all her opponents without a second thought.”

His partner leaned forward and kissed him gently. “Let us do better this time, then.”

Byleth returned her chaste kiss and wrapped his hands around her still bed-warm back.

“Yes. We will.”

“I will not fault you for siding with the girl,” Sothis said, quietly. “Had you sided with any others, war would have been inevitable. Rhea did terrible things to you that are not easily excusable, though I suppose without her actions, we would not be together as we are. If circumstances in this time are the same, she will still be stricken by the same mad, desperate grief towards me. I do not think that I will ever be able to manifest in the way that she wanted, but if we are going to do better, perhaps it will not come to killing her. I do not blame you for that, either. She had lost her mind long before.” 

Byleth nodded, the sad sympathy in Sothis’ words evident.

“As you say, it will not be easy. We will do it together.”

Sothis hummed into his chest. “Small steps, Byleth.”

“Small steps, then,” he agreed. 

“More pressingly,” Byleth continued, “I do not have a sword with which to rescue the students tomorrow. Unless I am going to club those bandits over the head with your remnants hilt first-- ow!” Sothis had punched him playfully in the arm. 

“It is only a mild admonishment, hush. Do not joke about clubbing bandits with my sacred remains,” she murmured.

“Fine, fine,” Byleth replied, a small smile coming to his lips, their serious discussion receding a little. “Speaking of sacred remains,” -- another gentle punch -- “there is one other immediate worry I have, Sothis. Do you remember to our first meeting in this world that was not inside my head? I utterly could not touch you. And now…” A dusting of pink graced Byleth’s cheeks as he recalled their earlier encounter, and he ran his hands over the naked back of the girl in his lap. “Perhaps we could say that your corporeality has been, uhm, established.”

“It would be impudent of you to regret it,” Sothis teased, a wry smile flitting over her lips.

The mercenary shook his head. “No, I mean. If I can see and touch you --  _ can others? _ ”

Sothis quietly gasped. “You think-- but no, surely that is not possible--”

“It is just a theory. It may be that without the Crest Stone we are just bonded in a different way, now. Or it might be that utilising so much of your power to take us back here has made you a bit more obvious _. _ I cannot easily test it without possibly exposing you,” Byleth said. “Revealing you to someone if that is the case will make our plans commensurately more difficult.”

Sothis snorted, gesturing towards herself. “I think right now I am possibly quite exposed enough already. Do not undertake such a test before I can put my clothes back on.”

Byleth grinned back at her at that, his expression turning serious as he thought about the next steps. “You should do that,” he said, gently. “I have an idea. Can you use the Divine Pulse again yet, or are you too exhausted?”

Sothis wiped the sleep out of her eyes as she stretched her arms tiredly, and considered. “I think I may be able to summon one, only,” she conceded. “But that does not leave much of a margin for error, does it?”

“What if you come downstairs with me to see Jeralt? If he sees you -- or anyone for that matter -- merely rewind time and come back to the room,” Byleth suggested. “If not… you can enjoy an evening of awkward small talk as I pretend the last five years didn’t happen and try to stop Jeralt from racking up another of his continent-wide tabs.”

“Hm, that seems an acceptable idea,” Sothis agreed. She looked over at her clothes on the floor, piled uncaringly some distance away from the bed.

“Byleth, could you help me dress?”

The green-haired man brightened at that. “I would love to.”

* * *

Sothis shivered as Byleth, amateur to her outlandish clothes as he was, did the clasps on her long navy regalia up, the way his fingertips brushed her skin making her shiver warmly. 

Behind her, the man watched her reactions and grinned; it was very much deliberate. 

His motions were kind and gentle; it was a welcome calm. The prospect of others seeing her like Byleth did filled Sothis with equal amounts of trepidation and dread.

_ The goddess dwells in Heaven and also in Fódlan. _

She started. Where did those words come from? They had suddenly arrived in her--

A loud knock on the door and a muffled voice. “You in there, kid? Don’t wanna interrupt if you’ve ditched your old man for your lady friend.”

Byleth inwardly cursed and outwardly winced. Sothis patted his shoulder and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Guess we can try, now I have my clothes on,” she whispered, expression unreadable.

He nodded.

“Yes, I’m here,” Byleth called at the doorway. “Hold on.”

Jeralt heard his son walking to the door, Byleth revealing himself through the doorway a few moments later.

“It’s fine, Jeralt. I’m not occupied.”

“So, you were just sitting in the dark, then?” Jeralt peered past the man in front of him to the room beyond. Given Sothis’ previous sleeping state, and Byleth’s worried former haste, he had neglected to light any of the lamps; the room was completely unlit. His father scanned the darkness, seemingly seeing nothing as Sothis put a sheepish hand up at him from the bed. He looked back at his son. “I hope you’re alright, kid. You worry me sometimes.”

“He worries me too,” Sothis muttered.

Byleth’s eyes reflexively shut at the comment. He’d never made it easy on Jeralt, growing up. When he realised that the Byleth of right now shouldn’t have that kind of insight, he slowly forced them open again.

“I’m fine. It’s been a long day. I thought I’d get an early start on some sleep.”

“I heard about your little friend from earlier,” Jeralt said, gruffly. “Hope you treated her right. Don’t want to hear my kid has lacked any manners toward the fairer sex. And don’t tell me who gave you the talk about girls. One of the men, I expect. Just…” He tailed off and sighed. Jeralt didn’t remember Byleth ever being interested in  _ anyone _ , let alone girls. “I suppose you’re at that age. Just try to keep it in your pants when we’re on a job.”

Byleth nodded. “I treated her fine. And yes, I can do that.”

His father’s eyes narrowed, but he let the topic slip. “Good. Well, you’re probably not wrong about getting some early shut-eye. We’ve got--”

“A long march to the Kingdom tomorrow,” Byleth nodded.

“Right,” Jeralt affirmed. “Don’t let me keep you, then. We march at dawn.”  With that, he turned away and started making his way back down the stairs.

The door slowly creaked shut, the lock bolted behind his retreating figure. Byleth turned to Sothis and shrugged.

“Well, it seems like he had no clue about you, Sothis. Unless the old man gained a poker face this time around, I think there’s no change in your… circumstances. At least to him.”

Sothis harrumphed in the dark as Byleth lit a few candles in the dark inn room. “I was almost hoping otherwise,” she pouted. “I’d have told him how well his son treats me...”

“Please do not ever again suggest you want to discuss our intimate acts with my father.”

She stuck out her tongue at him. “Just be glad that I save myself only for your eyes, and that I won’t get the chance. Now--” Sothis clapped her hands, imperious, “we have a busy day tomorrow, so quit skulking and come to bed.”

Byleth was more than happy to abide by that suggestion.

* * *

They’d made it once more after that, the goddess’ lips meeting his as he slid into bed, the gentle rhythm of their act deliberately quieter this time, whispered appreciation and love for each other tying them together in the dark.

Lying in the dark, afterwards, Sothis had claimed his chest again as her preferred place to sleep. He’d not seen it, but she’d drifted off listening to his heartbeat, the most content of smiles on her face as they both found an easy sleep.

* * *

Byleth awoke in the dark with a jerk, Sothis stirring at the sudden movement.

“Awuh?” Sothis mumbled.

“I need to get up and ready,” Byleth whispered back. “Unlike you, I actually have to fight today.”

“Mmmmmm. You do that.” Sothis pulled the cover back over herself as Byleth slipped out of bed. “Come let me know when I need to get up…”

“I will.”

When the first streaks of sunlight cracked over the horizon, Byleth had already been dressed and ready in his armour for an hour. He’d not need Jeralt to wake him up from indecipherable dreams this time. Byleth had snuck out to the mercenary company’s wagons, and an unfamiliar iron sword had been tethered to his hip, swapped with a cloth-bundled Sword of the Creator, carefully hidden as well as possible in the dark.

_ Not being able to use Sothis’ blade is unfortunate. I suppose whipping out the most legendary of the Heroes’ Relics to cut down some simple bandits would only have been excessive. It would raise more than a few awkward questions. _

The outside commotion came right on cue. Byleth let out a silently-held breath. It was reassuring to know they hadn’t landed in something totally unexpected. “Time to go,” Byleth nodded, and the still-sleepy Sothis padded out behind to follow him into the early dawn. 

The beginning.

Byleth ran down the stairs and out into the centre of Remire. There, just discernible through the crowd of at-attention mercenaries, stood this year’s leaders of the three houses of the Officers’ Academy. He called over to the nearest of Jeralt’s company. “Tell Jeralt what’s going on, and be quick about it.”

The merc nodded and ran into the inn, and Byleth took stock of the nobles. Before him, Edelgard von Hresvelg, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, and Claude von Riegan.

Edelgard was in the centre, the white-haired woman --  _ no, girl,  _ Byleth realised  _ \--  _ already appraising Byleth as he strode over to approach them. The lack of recognition for him in her unwavering violet eyes utterly stung.

He’d expected it, but the disappointment was fierce.  _ This is going to be harder than I thought, Sothis.  _

“Do not let sentimentality throw away our first performance, here,” Sothis growled next to him. “Edelgard does not know you, and you know she is already sizing you up. Act properly, now.”

_ Of course. _

Flanking her to the left was Dimitri, the blonde man--  _ again, no, boy --  _ stiff-backed and attending Byleth with attention. Byleth blinked; he suddenly realised the last time he’d seen Dimitri was lying dead on the ground at Gronder Field. Moments after Byleth had killed him.

_ Maybe this time I can avoid driving the Sword of the Creator through his chest.  _

Claude looked young, that same insincere grin on his face that he’d worn for six years into the future suiting him less now than it had at the defence of Deirdru. Defeating Claude had been the only time Byleth had seen it drop. 

“Come now; take a breath, Byleth, and command,” Sothis urged, snapping him out of self-pity.

Dimitri cleared his throat as Byleth reached the trio. “Forgive our intrusion,” the prince began, in a hurried tone that betrayed a little of his suppressed anxiety. “We wouldn’t bother you if we weren’t in quite such a dire situation.”

Jeralt finally caught up with his son, clapping a broad hand on Byleth’s shoulder. “What’s going on? The men are in a disarray.”

Byleth nodded. “Bandits. Chasing these three by the sound of it.”

If Edelgard had been surprised by his immediate correct guess, she concealed it well. “Yes, that’s right,” she affirmed, “they attacked us in our camp. We barely managed to escape after our professor fled into the woods.”

Claude laughed. “Guess the Monastery didn’t pay him enough, huh? Well, these bandits are probably only after our lives and gold, but I don’t fancy losing those either. Fancy helping us out in a pinch? Your men have told us you’re a group of experienced mercenaries.”

Jeralt grabbed his lance off the cart. “That’s right. Alright, kids, Remire’s been good to us. And you three aren’t getting back to your precious Monastery if we don’t take care of these lowlifes.”

One of the assembled men of Jeralt’s company shouted out. “They’re sighted, Captain. Perhaps a dozen or more moving into the village from the north. We should move.”

The Blade Breaker swung up on his horse, looking down at Byleth. “Me and half the men will defend the village and the villagers. Take these kids forward and meet their vanguard. By the look of them, they’re from the Officers’ Academy-- they’ll fight. If you need to fall back, signal and the rest of the men will charge out.”

Byleth nodded, turning to the three charges in his command. “Follow my commands and this will be easy. Watch each other’s backs, and I’ll watch yours.”

_ Not just here, at Remire. For as long as we can. _

“Yes,” Sothis nodded. “Now let’s fight.”

* * *

The battle had been easier than Byleth was expecting. Years of war for the Empire had honed his sword skills, and it seemed that he’d retained all of it despite travelling here with Sothis. The way Edelgard was unsubtly watching his moves was more overt than he’d remembered; perhaps with less focus on the unfamiliar circumstances, he’d got the chance to be more aware of such a thing.

Sothis floated at his side, incorporeal to everyone, ready to help if anything went wrong.

“These little lambs of yours have got a long way to go from what I remember,” Sothis shouted, as Byleth shoved a sword through the gut of the bandit in front of him, twisting the iron blade and pulling it loose, the bandit gargling blood as he fell back with a kick to the shoulder. “You seem not to have lost a stroke, though.”

The iron sword in his hand wasn’t the Relic, but he was finding himself unchallenged. Swordwork slashed through defences into flesh easily.

Next to them, Dimitri had been parrying a brigand’s axe desperately with his spear, and finally finding an opening, he thrust clean forward, punishing the man for his reckless move. As his spear met the throat and an arterial spray of blood shot clean through Sothis’ body, she let out a shriek. “Aiiiieeeeee! That was  _ gross _ !”

_ Focus, Sothis. _

The green-haired mercenary had commanded his wards through the forest, driving the front line of the bandits back with relative ease. He knew the trio’s strengths better now than the last time, and used them to support each other more purposefully. Between Edelgard’s lumbering axework, Dimitri’s furious long-range thrusting and Claude’s accurate bow-work, the bandits were starting to waver. Byleth pressed forward, shouting instructions to the house leaders as he eyed his target.

Next to him, Sothis gasped, the sudden pulse emerging from her freezing the flow of battle in an instant. Byleth looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m glad you can still do that, at least,” he nodded.

“I can read your thoughts, so I know what you plan to do,” she said, in a chiding tone. “If you do not remember, that particular odious oaf tried to kill your little princess. Putting aside the fact that she hired him, an obviously terrible plan, saving her life won you  _ just _ a little indebtedness from her--”

“Considering we nearly got killed last time, I don’t fancy repeating it,” Byleth sighed. “Besides. I have a better idea this time. What did we say, ‘small steps’?” He looked at his sword, covered in crimson. “I had to kill enough Faergus axemen in the last war. Given the way Edelgard has been looking at me all during the battle, I think she’ll be more impressed by what I plan to do.”

Sothis furrowed her brow. “If you’re sure…”

Byleth nodded. “Yes. There’s not a chance in Ailell I can live the whole year at Garreg Mach in exactly the same way. My memory is simply not accurate enough to retrace every single step. If fate is mutable compared to the last timeline, something is going to diverge at some point. Killing the particularly ineffective leader of this bandit troupe saves us a month of busywork from Rhea.”

“I hate to affirm your ideas, sometimes, but it makes sense,” Sothis nodded. “Very well. I shall stay back, a little. I’ve already had enough exsanguination spurting through me for one battle.”

Time flew unpaused, and Byleth nodded, seeing his target ahead of him.

“Dimitri, Edelgard, with me,” he called out. “Stay behind me. I think that’s their leader.”

Two shouts of assent came back.

That same leader of the troupe strode forward, most of his men dead or bleeding out on the ground around. The feral form of Kostas growled sullenly at Byleth, his iron blade levelled at the bandit, even as Kostas tossed his axe from hand to hand.

“You’re pretty good, kid, I’ll give you that. But it ends here. I’ll kill you where you stand!”

Kostas charged, a lumbering brute of a man with his axe coming up in a powerful swing. 

Byleth raised his sword, predicting the bandit’s move, and stepped forward. Kostas roared and raised his axe, sweeping cross-chest in a quick arc--

At least, it had looked quick to Edelgard; she gasped aloud at what was surely a killing blow, before the clash of steel on steel rang out in the air. The group watched as Byleth parried the bandit’s swing effortlessly, sword wrenching down the axe with surprising strength. Kostas’ eyes went wide as he felt his arm sink uncontrollably, and he looked up at Byleth with a look of surprise and panic. “What the--”

Byleth stepped inside the kicked weapon’s arc, pivoting on his left foot and following up with the gained momentum and his strength to bring his sword up towards the throat. The swing of Byleth’s weapon cut off Kostas’ head, sailing through the air some dozen feet away and landing with a dull thump.

The corpse fell to the floor, gushing blood from the neck. Byleth wiped his sword off on the bandit leader’s already-filthy clothing, and turned back to the others; all of them were staring at him open-mouthed as the few remaining bandits began to flee, the demise of their leader not a fate they wanted to share. Claude came running up, firing a few warning arrows at their retreating forms as they sprinted northward.

Sothis laughed uncontrollably at his side. “I can’t believe you  _ cut his head off _ ,” she hummed with amusement. “Do you think your little princess is a fan of decapitation, particularly?”

Byleth didn’t respond to that. 

“Battle’s over,” he chose to say, the students gawping at him, astonished. He looked them over; they all had a pale look on their face mixed with absolute awe. Edelgard’s hand was shaking slightly; whether it was because of the scene in front of her, or because he had just killed off her frankly awful plan, Byleth couldn’t tell.

Dimitri was the first to speak, just about wrenching his jaw back into action, trying to form words. “I, uh, that was--”

A thunder of horse-hooves, and Jeralt galloped up to the four of them, reining in his horse when he was level with them. “I was watching from the village, nice work, you three,” he called down to the students. And then at Byleth -- ““What the hell was  _ that,  _ kid?”

Byleth shrugged. “Routine bandit work.”

Sothis began to howl in laughter even more loudly. 

Jeralt looked at the three students around him for moral support. “I’ve never seen you fight like that, Byleth. You just-- you just one-shot their leader with a move  _ I’ve _ never taught you--”

“Your skill is unquestionable,” Edelgard marvelled, the next to speak. “Not even the most accomplished trainers at the Monastery could pull off some of those moves. Perhaps Catherine, and she’s the most accomplished Knight serving in the-- you fight like a master.”

“They don’t call him the Ashen Demon for nothing,” Jeralt nodded. “But that, I have no idea. Showing off for you kids, maybe?” He looked at Byleth. “I know you’ve just found out about girls. I don’t know that decapitation is the way to impress them.”

Edelgard silently blushed at that.

“Yeah, for sure, those were some skills,” Claude agreed. “I’m no expert in swords. Too up close and personal for comfort -- you just showed why. I hope I never make an enemy of you folks!”

Jeralt sighed. “I don’t know, kid. Keep fighting to show off and you’re like to meet your end post-haste.”

His son shook his head. “I’ve been practicing.”

His father opened his mouth to reply, only to be intercepted by the thunderous tones of Alois and the Knights of Seiros galloping towards them from the north.

Jeralt hit his face with a gauntleted palm. This day was not about to improve.


	5. Familiar Place, Familiar People

Jeralt had acquiesced to Alois’ infernal camaraderie. Loath as he was to reunite with the jovial Knight of Seiros, the two of them were riding ahead on horseback, Jeralt badgered by the other man’s two decades of pent-up commentary and horrible jokes. The rest of them -- students and future teacher both -- rode behind, flanked by the other knights of Alois’ party. Byleth peered ahead; some distance in front of him, Jeralt was visibly flagging. Byleth had sympathy, if no impending desire to join his father. He’d succumbed to enough of Alois for one lifetime.

A pair of warm hands clutched Byleth around his waist as they rode; he was being hugged by an invisible Sothis from the rear, her arms surprisingly warm at his hips as he rode alongside the three house leaders. Sothis’ head was solid against his shoulder, not sleeping, but comfortable, completely invisible to any of the others. Byleth tried not to let her weight show as the three noble scions tried not to look as if they were eagerly talking over each other to command his attention.

He was tuning in and out of their conversation. Currently they were trying to describe their territories in the most enticing terms. It didn’t take much effort to nod and let them get it out.

Sothis was trying to command his ear, too, which interested him a little more.

“I miss the monastery,” she murmured, into his ear. “Is that strange to say? Whatever our plans are, it was idyllic. I’m looking forward to spending our idle time there again, Byleth. Count yourself lucky. Honestly, it’s not often you get to have a schooldays romance with a goddess.”

Byleth smiled, the idea of such a thing bright in his mind at her suggestion. 

_ That sounds good. But we need to get there first. And I’d forgotten how disgracefully eager the three of these kids were to get my sole allegiance when we first met. _

“Perhaps this time you could ingratiate yourself early with them rather than be a noncommittal, uninformed idiot,” Sothis murmured, her lips working at his armoured shoulder. “Small steps, hm? Breaking the ice more effectively this time might make any of our future plans easier. Last time you let these noble idiots talk all over you. Pretend to be interested in what they’re saying or spar back. Do  _ something _ to earn their trust, even if only a little.”

_ How quickly you fall into old habits! I thought we were in  _ love.

“We are in love,” Sothis tightened her grip around his waist. “I love you. So please listen to my advice…”

The man blushed, unseen by her.  _ Yes, alright. I’ll try. _

“I understand the three of you are students at Garreg Mach Monastery,” Byleth said, an hour into their trek, getting a word in when it seemed safe to do so. “The three leaders of the three houses, is that right? Seems like a coincidence that I would save you from some random bandits. As I understand, the three of you are quite likely to become Fódlan’s next leaders. It sounds like quite the opportunity to take you out.”

“You know it was, idiot,” Sothis whispered. “Is this the best small talk you can come up with?”

_ I want to see how Edelgard reacts. I learned some of her tells, in the war. I want to see if it’s the same Edelgard. _

“A disturbing thought, though I have no idea where those bandits came from,” Dimitri announced. “If you or any of we house leaders hear, we should inform the Archbishop. No doubt the Church would have us, or the Knights of Seiros, clear them out.”

Claude leaned back on his horse, a coy grin flitting his features that his eyes didn’t meet. Byleth stared at him blankly. Claude’s act had always tired him. He was strongly considering telling him not to bother at the earliest opportunity he could get the boy alone. Or, knowing Claude, the first opportunity he came to Byleth to wheedle out some personal information.

“All I’m glad about is getting away,” the von Riegan grinned. “Don’t know about you,  _ your Princeliness, _ but I’m not so keen to tussle with them again without the help of this guy right here.” Claude cast a glance at Edelgard, the white-haired girl staring evenly back at him. “It’s so unfortunate that bandits pierce this far into the Empire. I guess the garrisons of the Empire’s territory are otherwise occupied, perhaps at hard march, hm princess?”

Edelgard allowed herself a thin smile, looking past his shoulder, deliberately not meeting his eyes. Hers had barely left Byleth during their ride so far.

The girl looked so young, so much the faultless heir, so  _ innocuous _ \-- even though Byleth knew she wasn’t. Edelgard was effortlessly on guard, her tells imperceptible unless you knew her. Which Byleth did. 

“Hmph. Claude. It was a band easily dealt with by ourselves, students of the officers’ academy, though I will concede that Byleth here was extremely impressive. Even without him, the Knights of Seiros would be able to deal with their force. In their numbers, they would pose no real threat to any competent army or commander. As for the Eagle forces, they maintain border watch on the Kingdom and Alliance’s map lines. As you know, there are no current wars, apart from the border skirmishing in Sreng. Which is not an Adrestian matter.”

Byleth cleared his throat to interject. “Bandits are bandits. There’s not necessarily cause to their actions. Perhaps them running into you was a coincidence. But Jeralt and I hadn’t heard any rumours of them pillaging or thieving near Remire, so...” He purposefully tailed off.

Claude looked at him, pointedly. “You just asked why bandits would just ambush the three heirs of the academy. You don’t believe that it was a coincidence.”

Byleth nodded. “It’s possible there’s some higher motive. As a mercenary, I’m used to fighting for coin. Rogues and thieves are just the same; motivated by gold. Gold can come from anyone, though. I know you are nobles. You must have some enemies.”

He looked at Edelgard. The woman’s--  _ no, girl’s --  _ eyes were inscrutable violet. Byleth was impressed. She was almost as good at hiding her reactions now as she had during the war. He didn’t doubt that the others couldn’t tell what her reaction was. For his part, he saw the guarded curiosity (well, that’d been present since they’d met) and a distinct desire to end this conversation. It was funny. For all of his forced joviality, Edelgard was much better at hiding her emotions and opinions than Claude was. Byleth idly wondered if Claude know that.

“It’s a pity we couldn’t capture anyone alive to ask them,” Edelgard eventually said, evenly.

“Byleth here didn’t exactly leave any of them alive!” Claude laughed. “Your old man must have some skill if he taught you to fight like we saw back there. How long have you been a merc?”

_ Not for a long time. _ “Almost my whole life. Growing up with Jeralt was never going to be a peaceful lifestyle. My mother died when I was very young, so he was the sole one to raise me.”

“It shows,” Dimitri nodded. “I really must ask you to lend your services to the Kingdom--”

The three of them spent the next half-hour bickering on horseback to entreat Byleth and his formidable fighting prowess.

It was almost endearing, if it weren’t just totally exasperating.

“Better they get it out now than do it all year,” Sothis said, hugging him tighter.

_ Couldn’t agree more. _

* * *

A wave of curious nostalgia washed over Byleth as their group rode through the gateway of Garreg Mach. It had been a long time since he’d seen the place in its former, undestroyed glory -- and it did not disappoint. Late afternoon sunlight shone off the tops of the towers as the familiar chatter of students sounded around the walls. For all of Rhea’s faults, overseeing the construction of this place so many years ago was something she’d done right.

_ This was our home, more than anywhere else. _

“Perhaps we will be able to prevent its destruction, this time,” Sothis said, a plaintive, wistful note in her voice. “People over architecture, first. But we were almost happy here…” She tailed off, seemingly absorbing the sights, too. “If we could even steal a few days, there’s much I’d want to do with you...”

Their travelling group pulled into the monastery’s stables, Jeralt and Alois already dismounted ahead of them, Byleth and the rest doing the same after the day’s ride. 

“We were on a mission from the Archbishop before you rescued us, so it’s beholden for us to report back to her now we’ve arrived at the monastery,” Dimitri explained, blithely unaware Byleth knew all of this already. “You should accompany us with your father and Alois. We’ll be able to explain your service and Lady Rhea should know of your arrival.”

“Very good,” Byleth nodded. 

_ Can’t say I’m looking forward to dealing with her again. _

“Try not to let Rhea needle you into compromising our position!” Sothis sighed, shaking her head. “Even if we do know everything she thinks is a well-kept secret, it would be best not to let it show.  _ Or, _ you could just get it off your chest and taunt her directly to her face. And when she kicks off to murder us, I could use my powers of the Divine Pulse--”

_ That sounds like an eminently terrible idea, Sothis. _

The floating girl folded her arms and pouted. “You are no fun at all!”

* * *

Alois led the way. Every step Byleth made felt like a step closer to the gallows.

“You really shouldn’t dread her this much, it is distinctly unsensible,” Sothis murmured, next to him. Byleth desperately wanted to hold her hand for reassurance.. Sothis rolled her eyes.

“Incorrigible boy,” she said, and slipped her hand into his pocket. “There. Do it this way. Slowly, now.” She hummed as the man’s fingers slipped around hers. “Better? Now, lessen that sense of dread. I can feel it too. It won’t do.”

Byleth did feel a little better, and he squeezed Sothis’ hand gratefully.  _ It’s just… last time our first meeting was easy. I was clueless. Things are different this time-- Sothis, I cut her  _ throat.

“And a fine job you made of it. This Rhea suspects nothing and is distinctly alive. Do not give away anything! Or this whole escapade will be pointless. And I feel like I lack the reserve of power to rewind time to the degree that put us back here. So, best behaviour.”

Byleth grimaced, nodding.

Their group ascended the stairs, and having made their way to Rhea’s chambers, Alois and the students had the first audience. Byleth could hear the knight’s unmoderated voice muffled through the heavy-set doors as he and Jeralt waited their turn. He had never been quiet.

Jeralt looked more on edge than Byleth felt. “Are you alright, father? You look uncomfortable.”

The Blade Breaker turned his head and looked at his son, sighing heavily. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been here. The Archbishop may not appreciate my return to the monastery very much.”

Byleth blinked.  _ Jeralt masked his worries much better, last time.  _ “Why is that?”

“Many years ago, I used to captain the Knights of Seiros. You didn’t know, because I never told you. Things… happened, I guess, which led to me leaving. I haven’t seen this place for over twenty years. She might not take kindly to seeing me again.”

Byleth gave him a small smile. “It’s been nice knowing you.”

Jeralt looked at him dumbfounded, before throwing his head back, a strangled laugh escaping his lips. “Hah!”

_ It’s nice to see him laugh. He was always so sombre. _

His father shook his head, trying to recompose himself. “Those brats must have given you some odd ideas, kid. First you’re even scarier in battle than I’m used to, and now you’re making jokes? Since we met those students it’s like you’re a different person.”

_ You don’t know the half of it.  _ “Less than you think. But from what you say, it won’t do to be laughing at Rhea. Best to get it out now.”

“Hmph! And best to call her  _ Lady _ Rhea,” Jeralt sighed. “She’s… well, you’ll see. It’s better not to disrespect her. She’s not one you want to make an enemy of, for both of our sakes.”

The doors levered open, the three house leaders emerging from Rhea’s hall, walking past him and Jeralt as they made their way out after their debriefing. Claude tipped him a wink as they walked by. Edelgard’s eyes lingered on Byleth, before she moved past. Dimitri gave a polite nod to the two of them.

“Lady Rhea says she will let us know in due course what is to be done about the bandits,” the earnest boy said. “Anyway, I shan’t keep you. Good afternoon.” And with that, he departed. 

_ We mustn’t delay the imperious Archbishop with conversations I already know about, now. _

Seteth called them in. “Welcome to Garreg Mach monastery, Jeralt, Byleth,” Seteth began. “I am Seteth. An advisor to the Archbishop.”

“Pleasure,” Jeralt said, in a tone that suggested anything but.

Seteth gave no reaction. Byleth had always been impressed how unflappable he was, unless it was Rhea blindsiding him. 

_ Whatever happens, at least Seteth could listen to reason. There’s a reason I didn’t kill him. _

The archbishop’s advisor opened the door, and continued. “If you will follow me, Rhea will see you now.”

The two of them followed the green-haired man into the opulent audience chamber. Rhea stood at the end of the chamber, the very image of divine grace herself. The late afternoon light shone through the stained glass, illuminating her white dress and beautiful hair, glinting off the Archbishop’s crown in a striking, lustrous way. She should have made Byleth gasp. Instead he felt sick.

Rhea’s eyes never left his, and he forced a small smile onto his face to match the easy one on her face.

_ Maybe Claude can learn a few tricks about a poker face from her. _

Sothis, hand still in his pocket, grinned beside him.

“It has been a long time, Jeralt,” Rhea said, expression one of beauteous compassion. “Too long, in fact. I had hoped that the flow of time would return you to us. For that I thank the Goddess.”

Jeralt’s face was a mix of barely-suppressed emotions. “It has been a long time, yes. You are looking well as ever, Rhea.”

Rhea’s smile did not dim. “And you, Jeralt. It seems much has happened since we last parted ways. Is this your child, by any chance?”

“Yes, I am,” Byleth spoke, cutting in before his father could open his mouth again. “My name is Byleth.”

_ I couldn’t let Jeralt make that unconvincing lie about me again.  _ Sothis snorted in suppressed laughter.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Byleth. Any member of Jeralt’s family is as welcome here as he is. My name is Rhea, Archbishop of the Church of Seiros. Alois and the students had much praise about how you saved them. That said…” Rhea seemingly paused, considering her words. “The house leaders told me that you cut off the bandit leader’s head in the heat of battle. Whilst taking care of the false and wicked is commendable, I hope Jeralt has not been instructing you in anything too… extreme.”

Byleth forced his best contrite expression onto his face. “It was a first, Lady Rhea. I’m sure it’ll be the last.”  _ Unless I have to do it to you again. _

“Your zeal in protecting the students is extremely commendable, however, so I thank you. Are you aware of the teachings of the Church of Seiros? To have one so fervent as you in our service would be a gift from the Goddess indeed.”

Sothis’ hand squeezed Byleth’s in his pocket. “Hands off, Seiros. He’s mine,” she whispered. Byleth tried not to let the smile show on his face.

_ Yes, I am. _ “I know a few things.”  _ Like the fact you are Seiros and about a thousand years old.  _

“I am glad,” Rhea replied, that doting, motherly smile on her face. Byleth could almost see the rising hunger in her eyes. “I would like to invite you to instruct one of the three houses this year. We are short a professor, having lost him during the attack, and Alois and the students could say nothing bad about your skills. If you feel you would be confident in teaching one of the houses, I invite you to do just that.”

“I would be more than honoured to,” Byleth managed, causing his father to raise an eyebrow.

Before he could say anything, Seteth protested.

“Surely you cannot be serious, Rhea,” Seteth ejaculated. “This man, no, this child--”

Rhea’s head shot over to him, her glance not hardening, but he was immediately cut off. 

“I have made a decision, Seteth. From what we have heard, this man is more capable than any Knight of Seiros we have in our service. I am sure he will be an excellent instructor.”

Seteth swallowed his complaints, though his face glowered, leaden. “Very well--” he managed after a long moment, voice strangled.

“Are you sure, Byleth?” his father asked, expression one of mild surprise.

“I am,” Byleth reaffirmed, a reassuring smile on his face. Jeralt made to say something, and then shut his mouth, merely nodding.

“Thank you, Byleth. I shall have the house leaders informed and I will arrange for you to meet with the other faculty members.”

Byleth nodded with as much gratitude as he could feign. So far, so good. “What about my father, Jeralt?”

Jeralt looked at Rhea. “Rhea wants me to rejoin the Knights of Seiros, I would guess.”  The Archbishop bent her head in agreement. 

“I won’t say no. I’m no idiot. And if my kid is staying here to teach a class, I’d be stupid to leave him here by himself. I only ask you take on those of my men who want to serve, too. I’m responsible for my mercenary company finding work, and I wouldn’t want them to go without.”

“It will be arranged,” Rhea assured him. “For now, that is all. I’ll see that rooms are provided for you. Jeralt, you may reclaim your old office. I am sure you remember where it is.” 

“Thanks,” Jeralt replied, gruffly. “Good day, Rhea.”

Byleth nodded, feeling the Archbishop’s eyes boring into the back of his head as Seteth escorted them to the door. It shut briskly behind them as soon as the two of them had crossed the threshold. At this moment, Seteth was probably going to give Rhea an earful as quickly as possible.

Jeralt looked at his child, expression one of bemusement. “I can’t believe you agreed to teach. Well, I guess you’ll get to spend some the year with your new friends. I guess that’ll be good for you. You seem to have opened up a bit after meeting them.”

Byleth nodded. “I think I’ll like it.”

“Good. Rejoining the Knights of Seiros… ah, once we came here, it was inevitable. We’ll probably start spending a lot less time together whilst we’re doing different things in the service of the Church.” Jeralt swallowed his distaste. “But you’re a smart kid, even if you don’t show much of it to anyone. You’ll be fine. And if you ever need anything, you can ask.”

“I will.” Byleth looked at Sothis, hesitating.  _ Do we tell him-- _

She shook her head. “Not yet,” she mouthed.

Jeralt clapped him on the shoulder, pulling him aside, drawing his attention back. “One piece of advice is free, kid,” he murmured, glancing around carefully. “Stay away from Lady Rhea.”

“I know exactly what kind of creature Rhea is,” Byleth smiled, and his father looked taken aback.  _ In the very literal sense. _

“What is that?” Jeralt grimaced. 

“One who doesn’t take no for an answer. Ever.”

Jeralt raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Huh. That’s… not wrong. Nice assessment. Like I said, stay away from her. I don’t like the look she was giving you in there. And this gig is coming with conditions. Don’t let her push you around.”

“She’d regret trying.” Byleth shook his head. He knocked a finger on the door they’d reached in the hallway, a small distance from Rhea’s chambers. “This is your old office, right?”

“Yeah, how did you know that?”

_ I’ve only been here a hundred times.  _ “Uhm, it’s the only one with the door shut.” 

Sothis, invisible, shook her head next to him. “What was that about terrible lies earlier?”

_ Shush. _

Jeralt shrugged. “Makes sense. Well, open it up. Now you’ve met Rhea, maybe you can understand why I’ve got so many open tavern tabs across Fódlan. Let’s have a drink.”

* * *

“My word, a future professor I could get  _ along with, _ ” Manuela purred from the doorway, catching Jeralt setting out a pair of liquor glasses. “I do hope there’s a third one going.”

Jeralt looked up towards the door in tandem with his son, Byleth grinning as he recognised Professor Casagranda’s voice. “Sure, come in,” Jeralt offered. “Jeralt. Newly reappointed to the Knights of Seiros. My son here will be doing the actual teaching.” 

“So young and handsome!” Manuela perched on the edge of the seat adjacent to Byleth, offering a sultry hand. “Manuela Casagranda. Professor, songstress, healer, admirer of fine men. Come to my office  _ any time,  _ understand?”

“Take up that invitation and I murder you in your sleep,” Sothis growled next to him.

_ Duly noted. _ “I’m sorry, Manuela. My heart already belongs to another,” Byleth mock-frowned. 

“Oh, what a dreadful shame!” Manuela winked at him as she took a glass full of Jeralt’s liquor. “And who might the lucky lady be?”

“The Goddess, of course. There’s no other who compares.”

Sothis giggled, her hands finding Byleth’s shoulders as she kissed his cheek. “Love you too.” Byleth tried to suppress the genuine blush that was threatening to break out on his face.

Manuela found this hilarious and she let out a laugh, deep and melodious as befit her background. “My word, Jeralt, your son has got quite the sense of humour, doesn’t he?”

Jeralt was smiling despite himself. Drinking half the glass of liquor off the bat probably did that. “It’s about a day old, so don’t get used to it.”

Manuela giggled. “Oh, what a pair of charmers I’ve lucked into. And if your taste in drink is anything to go by, I think we’re going to get along  _ famously. _ ” She downed her drink and set the glass on the table for another; Jeralt began pouring two more.

Byleth drank his. As per Jeralt’s preferences, it was dark, strong, and burned his throat. He could feel the flush building in his face already.

“Your cheeks are going red,” Sothis teased him. “Doesn’t that mean your incomparable Goddess can do this?” She leaned forward from behind him and rubbed her cheek gently against his, the alcohol in his face hiding the blush of the close contact. 

_ I’m getting you back for this later on, you realise. _

“Good,” Sothis whispered, unapologetic grin all over her lips. "Manuela isn't the only one who can engage in this kind of thing."

A noise at the doorway caught the group’s attention, and a grey-haired man in similar-coloured suit pushed into the office.

“Ah, there you are, you intolerable woman,” Hanneman griped. “My dear, it is barely five o’clock, and you are already at it--”

“Oh shush, Hanneman. It’s five o’clock somewhere,” Manuela scolded, drinking from her glass. “And that somewhere happens to be  _ here. _ ” 

Jeralt set his glass down and stood up, offering out a broad hand to the new figure. 

“Jeralt, also known as the Blade Breaker. Former captain of the Knights of Seiros, until recently head of a mercenary company, now reappointed to the Knights under the auspices of Lady Rhea. Hello.”

Hanneman looked at Jeralt’s face.

“Jeralt? My word, sir, I have heard a few stories of your time here at the monastery! Even when I arrived here some fifteen years ago, some of the Knights spoke of you with great respect. Do you by any chance have a Crest--”

“Yes, a Major Crest of Seiros,” Jeralt grudgingly admitted. “Long story.”

“Five seconds and we’re onto Crests,” Manuela despaired, shaking her head at Byleth. “Hanneman, where are your manners? This is Byleth, Jeralt’s son.  _ He _ will be our new house professor. Byleth, may I introduce Professor Hanneman, the most  _ total _ of bores about Crests and most other things to boot--”

“Please excuse my colleague’s idle prattling,” Hanneman interrupted. “You need not humour her too much. It is good to meet you, Byleth. As Manuela describes, she and I have the privilege of being the principal teachers for the three houses this year. I distinctly look forward to working with you.” He cast a look at Byleth, quickly assessing the man. Byleth inwardly sighed. Hanneman had the all-too familiar look of someone who wanted something.

“Have you ever been assessed for a Crest, Byleth? As Jeralt’s son, it is quite possible you too possess his Major Crest of Seiros! A most singularly uncommon bloodline! I simply  _ insist _ that you stop by my laboratory to be assessed as soon as possible. As the foremost scholar of Crestology in the land, you would find my revelations quite useful to your work as a mercenary and front line fighter! And you, Jeralt? Really, my office is just opposite--”

“I’m fine. I know how to get along with mine just fine,” Jeralt rebutted. “Don’t feel like you need to say yes, Byleth.”

“Sure, it’s no trouble.” Byleth nodded. “Let’s do it now.”

A grin split Hanneman’s face, the man almost jumping in excitement. “But of course! Manuela, Jeralt, please excuse us ever so briefly--”

“Nothing will be brief with Hanneman,” Manuela winked at Byleth. “Come back when he bores you.”

“Will do,” Byleth nodded, before he and Sothis followed Hanneman’s ever-so-eager form across the hallway. 

“This might actually be important,” Sothis told Byleth as Hanneman busied himself at the desk. “I am not sure whether the Crest of Flames will persist without the -- well, my -- Crest Stone. You might have no Crest at all!”

“Perish the thought,” Byleth murmured.

“Hm? Did you say something, Byleth?” Hanneman glanced up as he fetched a pen and some documents, ready to catalog him.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Byleth shook his head. Jeralt’s drink was obviously getting to his brain.

“Very well, then! If you could please place your hand over the Crest Analyser, we should get an immediate result.”

Byleth raised his arm slowly. It was oddly unsteady. Sothis steadied him with a gentle hand on his arm, soothing his nerves. “Good luck,” she whispered, guiding his palm over the Crest Analyser.

When the light twisted and bent to form the pattern, Hanneman’s unmonocled eye flying open in surprise, the result wasn’t what any of them had been expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what the best part about Sothis being invisible is? She can flirt with Byleth absolutely anywhere.
> 
> And by her own authority, she will.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. Catch you next time.


	6. On the Statement of Ownership

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The question of the Crests is answered, and Sothis makes sure Byleth knows his place.

If Byleth’s head had been feeling light from drinking Jeralt’s terrible whisky, now he was entirely sober, all warmth in his chest utterly gone. He stared at the Crest pattern in the lens with a mounting sense of horror, the shadow sinking onto the brightness like a scar.

“Fascinating, fascinating!” Hanneman loomed over his laboratory analyser like a child fascinated by the workings of an anthilll, Byleth feeling very much like the ant. “I recognise  _ some _ of this shape -- it is rare for Crests to be heritable, as you perhaps know, but not impossible. So it is unsurprising, therefore, to see here a Major Crest of Seiros -- but overlaid, here, some pattern I don’t recognise, some partial Crest pattern perhaps? It is perplexing--”

Unseen by the enthusiastic Crestologist, Sothis’ mouth fell open from behind Byleth’s shoulder, the girl aghast, her expression agape. “A Crest of  _ Seiros? Excuse _ me??”

“I…” Byleth tried to swallow, his mouth dry, his mind whirling. Sothis tried to meet his eyes, but he was fixated on the evidence in front of them at the Crest Analyser, unmoving. For the first time in a long time, Sothis saw him looking lost, almost shell-shocked. 

Byleth’s hand shot to his temple; the world was lurching around him, new heartbeat pounding in his ears. He felt dizzy; then the world lurched for real, as the goddess froze time in a splinter with a hurried wave of her hand. 

“What in Fódlan? _”_ Sothis asked, gliding in front of Byleth, hurriedly taking his fingers in hers. She grimaced as their hands met; his palms were sweaty, shaking slightly. He continued staring blankly past her shoulder at the machine. “This… this should not be possible,” she said, voice unsteady. “R-Right?”

The answer was apparent to both of them, painful as it was to admit.

“Rhea,” Byleth murmured, unfocused eyes staring blankly down at Sothis’ hands wrapped carefully around his. “ _ Seiros. _ ” He felt the gorge rise in his throat, and when he met Sothis’ eyes, she could see reflected there his fear and revulsion at the fact.

“Oh, Byleth,” Sothis whispered, her arms quickly clamping around him, her hand finding the back of his neck, the aura of his feelings not hard to read, even if they hadn’t been joined so intimately. “She… she must have done something when she destroyed the Crest Stone inside you,” Sothis whispered. “But… I do not understand how…”

“Rhea spent the last thousand years getting what she wanted,” Byleth muttered bitterly. “A last laugh was well in her capacity. She wanted me, and when I chose against her, she must have planned a reckoning from that moment. I wasn’t hers, and now I am, forever. Nothing more than a pet, indelibly marked as  _ hers. _ ” 

Sothis felt her lover’s body tense, before he continued, a rising fury in his voice.

“I want to know how she did this, and what power it gives her over me and you. Rhea has toyed with enough people’s damned lives--I want it  _ gone, _ Sothis! I will not be her fucking  _ chosen _ or whatever she--”

Sothis squeezed him tighter into the hug she was instigating, her hands firm around his back, the pain and vitriol in his voice evident. “Shush, calm, calm,” she whispered, pressing herself against him, trying to comfort his distress. Byleth’s voice cracked as he gave in, his arms weakly embracing her in return as Sothis soothed him, choking into the shoulder of the small floating girl.

Her heart hurt for the man. The intimate bond they shared meant Sothis could sense his emotions utterly, and she couldn’t remember a time he’d felt this embittered. Only the time after the Battle of Gronder Field had come close to replicating this state in the man; and that had been tempered by a grim pragmatism of war, his feelings a degree removed from Sothis without her being there to watch it directly. This -- this was bitter, and deserved, the cause obscene; Sothis shared absolutely every feeling Byleth had about it, but her anger could come later.

“We will sort this, okay? You and me and whoever else we need to involve. I  _ promise  _ you _ ,  _ Byleth. And a promise from a Goddess should not be easily forgotten. I feel exactly the same as you do about this. Together, we will put it right.”

Byleth hugged her back more tightly, blinking back the tears that had formed in his eyes. 

“Now, hush, because you are still a turmoil inside, and the emotions of a stoic man are to be feared. No -- I can feel it, now. I will not say do not be angry, for this is a good cause; but harbouring it will accomplish nothing. So listen to what I have to say.”

The man in her arms made a faint noise of agreement.

“There is at least an upside, it seems,” Sothis went on. “From what I saw on the machine, it looks as if you still possess the Crest of Flames. Be assured in that, for we did doubt it, did we not?”

Byleth nodded slowly as he tried to steady himself, breathing deeply to steady his composure. “Yes,” he admitted into Sothis’ shoulder. “I had hoped as much. I’m glad of that, at least.”

“As am I,” Sothis smiled. “So Rhea holds no more claim to you than I do. And purely by length of claim, you are mine by any measurable metric. Come now, no more tears, for this land has seen enough already, and it is unattractive on the man I love.” She kissed him gently on the cheek, the flesh there turning faint pink even through Byleth’s distress.

“Thank you,” he nodded into her shoulder, after a while. “You are too good to me, Sothis. What would I do without you?”

“Probably you would one-shot some more bandits, to make up for my lack of company,” Sothis whispered, grinning. Her partner smiled despite himself.

“Now, let us consider. If you want this information to be a secret, you know that I cannot tell anyone. Just ask and I can reverse the flow of time, and your fellow teacher here will be none the wiser.”

“I want to,” Byleth confessed. He desperately did. Shame was not an emotion he was used to feeling, and the temptation to--

“There is nothing shameful here but  _ her _ ,” Sothis said, quietly. “Do not blame yourself, here.”

A ragged sigh escaped his lips, and he nodded. “Right. It is tempting, but no, we need answers. And Hanneman… well, he is probably the one to give them.”

The goddess slowly disengaged from him, pleased that he looked if not happy, more settled. She kissed him gently. “Let us get some answers rather than weep, then, and afterwards, I will make sure that Seiros is the furthest thing from your mind.”

* * *

Time unfroze in another shatter of dimensional reference.

Hanneman’s eyes scanned Byleth with a new intensity at the man’s question.

He went over to the door, peered into the hallway in each direction, and closed it quietly. A key turned in the lock with a well-oiled click.

“As a dedicated researcher of Crestology first and foremost, I promise solemnly that any words spoken here will not leave this office. Does that reassure you?”

“Thank you, Hanneman,” Byleth sighed. “I understand you have questions, as do I. So, let us get to them.”

Hanneman nodded, almost rounding on the younger professor with eager professional curiosity. “Ahem… Byleth, there is no delicate way to pose this question, so I will be blunt with it. Do you possess  _ two _ Crests? Some weeks ago, I would have said such a thing was impossible, but I have recently met a st- a  _ subject of interest _ , of whom I have found a similar, previously unheard of happenstance. And from what the machine states, I strongly suspect that you are indeed a holder of two as well.”

_ When I speak to Lysithea again in this timeline, I think I’m going to better understand how she feels. _

“Do not tell me that you will resort to a crippling sweet addiction,” Sothis smiled, weakly. “Come now, focus.”

Byleth looked around the room as he chose his words for Hanneman carefully. “I shouldn’t,” he eventually managed, addressing the Crest Scholar. “Did you say a Crest of  _ Seiros _ ?”

“Yes, the analyser is quite unambiguous about that. It is a very rare crest to hold in either the Major or Minor forms -- though given your father possesses it, it is not beyond the realm of the possible. But, you sound unconvinced -- were you perhaps unaware your father held such a Crest? It is rare for Crests to be directly heritable, especially if you are the only child.” Hanneman’s lips thinned. “Crest bloodlines can often escape the first child born of a union.”

“Jeralt never mentioned his Crest to me, no, but that is not the source of my disbelief. I…” Byleth paused, unsure how much to tell his fellow Professor. “I know, or strongly suspect, what the other Crest is. Have you ever heard of the Crest of Flames, Hanneman?”

Now it was Hanneman’s turn to be taken by surprise, eyebrows shooting up, monocle teetering precariously in his left eye. “Nemesis’ crest? But surely that is not possible-- it is thought lost for a millennium--”

“You said yourself just now that mere weeks ago the idea of having two crests at all was impossible,” Byleth interrupted. “Look--”

The mercenary held up his hand, palm upward, projecting the Crest of Flames in brilliant purple. The design ran with flickering light akin to flames through a coloured veil. Hanneman’s haste to begin drawing it was almost indecent, vaulting the steps to take up pencil and parchment with a speed belying his age. Byleth stared at the projected Crest, and beyond, Sothis. This was him, them. Rhea would pay for changing that.

“This information must not be spoken of to anyone, least of all the Church,” Byleth said, more forceful than he’d meant to sound. “Having two Crests is enough of an affront to the orthodoxy in the first place, as you know, but I will be clear: if Rhea hears either directly or indirectly that I have  _ either _ of these two Crests, it will spell disaster.”

“Well, you can of course count on my professional discretion, so long as I can bend your ear to research this fascinating and rare Crest,” Hanneman nodded, still busily scribbling. “Such a rare finding cannot risk the test subject… I mean a fellow Professor, being removed before adequate observation could be undertaken--”

_ He makes me sound like a lab rat. So, same old Hanneman. _

“You want a blood sample, obviously,” Byleth sighed, and Hanneman immediately began to fumble at the shelf for a vial. “But remember--- secret--”

Hanneman’s eyes didn’t leave the site of the eager needle penetrating Byleth’s arm. 

“Yes, yes, of course,” the older man nodded, eagerly working on the extraction.

_ Goddess, this didn’t hurt this much the last time, I swear. He must be keen. _

“Do you want me to kiss it better?” Sothis teased him.

_ Yes. _

“Afterwards.”

* * *

Byleth rubbed his arm as he and Sothis made their way out of Hanneman’s laboratory-cum-office; the other Professor didn’t follow, instead muttering to himself about theories and locking the door behind them.

The two of them crossed the corridor, following the sound of laughter to sweep back into Jeralt’s office, where Manuela and Jeralt were seemingly in high spirits, if low on spirits. Byleth grimaced as he crossed the table and poured out another finger and a half of liquor, picking up the glass and downing it in a swoop.

“Not too much,” Sothis pouted, gently and invisibly taking his arm. “It’ll make you sad again, and besides, I have a much better way to make you more cheerful, if you’ll excuse ourselves.”

A half-smile flitted on his face, replacing the grimace from the drink.  _ I can just about do that. _

“So kid, any good news?” Jeralt asked, looking impressed at his son. “Manuela and I have just been sharing quite some stories about Hanneman. Sounds like he could bore the weapons right out of a bandit’s hand.”

“Nothing worth talking about,” Byleth shook his head. “You were right about Hanneman throwing you for a loop, Manuela. The man is incomprehensible at the best of times.”

The songstress threw her head back and laughed; Byleth could see a fair few empty glasses on her side of the table. “My, I’m glad you agree. I think we’re going to get on  _ famously~ _ .”

Jeralt chuckled. “This one can drink almost as well as a merc. Oh, you need this. One of the Knights came by and dropped off a room key. You’ve got the dorm room at the end of the student’s groundfloor, southmost. If you need help finding it--”

“I’ll be fine,” Byleth said, “I’m fairly certain I can find it.” He tossed the key in his hand. “Well, no time like the present. I’ll get my stuff moved in, if you don’t mind.” He smiled as best he could, before turning heel and excusing himself. “Good evening, Manuela, Jeralt.” 

As the door closed behind him Manuela looked at Jeralt unsteadily.

“So, “Blade Breaker”, is it? Have I told you yet that I like a man who knows what he wants? Lock the door.”

* * *

“You should eat something,” Sothis suggested, trailing behind Byleth, her feet skirting the ground. 

“Let’s just go to the dorm,” her partner sighed. “I’m neither hungry nor too keen on being around the students, just yet. I’d like to stop by the cart and get my things, though.”

Sothis agreed to that, and the two of them made their way over to the stables in the fading evening light, the noise and light from the dining hall cascading out into the lengthening evening in a way that made Byleth’s heart hurt.  _ Goddess,  _ but he had missed this place, the simpler times, where war wasn’t needed and the students were being carefree -- 

“I know,” Sothis said, taking his elbow. “As I mentioned earlier, whilst we’ll try and do right here, I want to enjoy it again with you, as best as we can.” Her voice was soft, light, her touch warm. Byleth looked around for any eavesdroppers and sighed, leaning into her.

“Yeah, I hope so,” he whispered, aloud this time, confident nobody was paying the two of them attention.

Sothis blushed a little, expression turning indignant. “Careful, now.”

“I’ve spent enough time around the usual suspects of this place to know their tells,” Byleth smiled. “We’re alone, at least for now. And I’m heartsick about everything. Let me at least talk with you whilst we can.”

The goddess hesitantly nodded, as Byleth scooped his belongings from the cart; he got his meagre past possessions out of the cart easily. The new professor ( _ or should that be old professor,  _ Byleth wondered to himself) reached into the back of the supply cart, carefully pulling out the cloth-wrapped Sword of the Creator, an unnoticed tension leaving him as it came back into his keeping. He tucked the cloth-wrapped Relic under an arm and gathered his satchel, the small, insignificant keepings of a mercenary on the road the scant evidence of his former life. Or  _ former  _ former life.

“If this Relic comes back with us, do you think there is another down in the Holy Tomb?” Sothis wondered aloud, as they wandered side-by-side towards the dorms. 

Byleth blinked, caught off guard. “That is a good question,” he admitted. “I guess we’ll find out in a few months, if the Western Church has its way.”

Sothis’ expression tightened. “Yes, I suppose we will.” She shadowed his side, walking on the ground, her body closer to Byleth than he’d remembered in their time together, her hand clutching his arm lightly. “Together,” she agreed, and a comfortable silence fell between them as they made the rest of the darkening route towards the room that’d been theirs once and now again.

The pair plunged through the deepening dusk to refind their room, the crux of their past, the door unlocked, the room unoccupied.

A hand at Byleth’s shoulder as the door opened.

“Such memories, but once again, we are here,” Sothis said, quiet. “Perhaps this time I can do more than hover here inside your head. I would like to, at least.”

Her partner smiled in the semigloom, candles finding flame under his quick fingers, the wavering orange light revealing themselves to each other. Byleth kicked the door shut behind them, before he pulled the Sword of the Creator from its makeshift shroud.

“Yes, I’d hope so. Here-- this is a stupid idea, but after the day we’ve had--”

The Relic weapon came free, and Byleth presented it in his grip, the blade coming aloft in his hand with the point reaching for the sky. He looked at Sothis, blade vertical, saluting her silently with it.

“I had thought that if Rhea found us with this in this timeline she’d have our heads,” Byleth said, and his expression was only a little sad. “Now I find myself not much caring about what she thinks.” He put his lips to the blade briefly, the odd, organic material fleetingly cold against his mouth. He looked at Sothis. “For what she has done, I’ll make you a promise; in this timeline, the only one who controls this weapon is the two of us, and we’ll find a way to make it work without her involved. We’ll find a way to stop the war. We’ll find a way to _g_ __e_ t rid of her  _ and whatever influence she has will be ended.”

“Right.” The goddess nodded back at him, her fierce eyes matching his determined look one for one. “You and I, together as one as always,” Sothis agreed. “Thank you, Byleth.”

Byleth nodded, and he carefully rewrapped the Sword, before laying it carefully under the bed, out of sight and out of mind for the moment.

“Now, I promised you that I would make you put all other thoughts out of your mind, did I not?” Sothis smiled warmly, her soft hands finding Byleth’s face as he retrieved himself from under the bed. “Much lies ahead. When you are here with me, all the worries are to be left outside, understand? We have pledged action, and our oaths are taken. Now, forget such things! I have more planned for the night than angst! So, please, will you not be with me?”

A nod, Byleth concurring, and Sothis’ lips found his as she clumsily, eagerly pressed herself into him, their mouths warm on each other’s for a fleeting moment.

“Come to bed with me,” the green-haired girl whispered, as if there had been a doubt to his agreeing, and Byleth saw her eyes were soft, kind and wanting as she took his fingers. She pivoted on her foot, and led him onto the freshly-made single bed’s covers by a hand, swinging over him, her smaller body poised over his.

“Ah, I had forgotten how small this bed was,” Sothis murmured, as Byleth’s mouth met hers keenly again, his hands pushing into her hair softly in an expression of want. “Mmmm, mmf- Byleth,” she whispered, “let me show you why you are mine, will you?”

Byleth’s demeanour melted as she stared into his eyes. Sothis; so intertwined with him and looking at him with a stare that made him want to come undone for her. Byleth felt the rage and apathy, so pent up after the day’s events, begin to slip from his mind, as Sothis’ green eyes eyed him needily, the slight smile on her perfect lips enough to put all other thoughts out of his mind even as her lips sought him out below his face.

“Let me take care of you,” the goddess urged into his neck, and Byleth melted utterly as she carefully, lovingly sent her lips over his bare skin, her affection and attention utterly on him as she began to give him all the sure attention in the world he could need and she could muster. 

“You are not Rhea’s, you are mine,” Sothis whispered to his ear, and she went back to kissing his neck, Byleth’s hands at her overcomplicated dress after having tousled her hair to oblivion. She took the lead as he peeled the fabric from her back, Sothis humming happily as she felt him grow hard under her hips poised on his. 

Her lips ran over his skin, and as she stripped his own clothes off in a slow race to nakedness, his mouth took no reluctance in kissing her breasts and stomach. At every step, Sothis took the lead, and her partner sighed in pleasure under her, Byleth feeling his worries like a lifted weight, all thoughts of anything but the impish,  _ sexy _ goddess atop him absent from his mind. That goddess now had him naked from the waist up, that mercenary’s toned fitness a not unwelcome side-effect; Sothis took in every inch of his exposed torso with her eyes or a flurry of kisses, a silent liturgy to make him forget anything but her.

The mercenary exhaled in surprise as Sothis moved, her lips again at his, before she thrust her hips forward, and her smaller hands reached forward as well. Her lithe body swung firmly into his as her grip took and pinned his wrists to the bed, leaning forward so that her bodyweight held him down. He raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“I told you that you are  _ mine, _ ” Sothis growled, the building passion evident in her voice now, her secret frustrations coming loose. “Mine! And right now, I should be the only thing you can think about.”

Her partner’s cheeks flushed crimson, and Sothis dove into his mouth again, her soft, shiny lips supply kissing his, before her searching tongue began to seek his, and the noise of the room devolved into messy, quiet smacking. Their breathing grew heavy as the goddess ground at his lap and utterly filled his mouth, unrelenting in her assault on her lover, eagerly enjoying the taste and feeling of his kisses.

“Hnnf,” Sothis groaned quietly, as she pulled away, gasping for air, “I love you…”

“Yeah, and I you, So-ahh--” Byleth’s reciprocation was cut off as Sothis wasted no time kissing down his newly-naked neck, a trail of wet, warm kisses snaking down to his exposed shoulder. His surprise was quickly replaced by warmth, his skin shivering in anticipation as Sothis continued to kiss her way down his exposed chest, trying keenly to cover as much of his skin with her wide mouth as she could.

Byleth made to respond, before she took his lips firmer, and cut him off before he could speak further. He moaned gently into Sothis’ mouth, the girl stealing his words with her tongue, the building tension between them growing more obvious and needful by the minute.

“Ah, Byleth,” she gasped, as they broke for breath, “you are mine, and by everything I have, I will show you why.” Sothis tugged at his trousers, and Byleth eagerly complied, his leggings and underwear fleeting easily to the floor, Sothis pinning him back down as she poised over him.

“Good boy,” Sothis murmured, her tone sultry. “I want to  _ fuck _ you, you know,” she grinned. “But you are under my power, now, so make sure you make your goddess happy, hm?”

Her partner groaned as Sothis rubbed her wetness over his exposed cock, the friction between them utterly delicious, her tongue once again seeking his as she kissed him. Byleth groaned into their kiss as her core slowly rubbed over him, Sothis’ hips moving back and forth, teasing him as much as she could. As wet and warm as she was, he had to break away--

“Sothis,” the man gasped, and he could feel her wetness on him, “I don’t want to wait anymore.  _ Please. _ ”

The girl atop him giggled, and Byleth watched as she clumsily wrapped the ribbons on her wrists around his own, tying them together. Her hands were soft and delicate, and now bound to his by so much ribbon; it made him warm inside, coupled with the killer look she gave him afterwards.

“Me neither,” Sothis whispered. “Take me.”

Her hand guided his cock slowly inside her, and it felt better than the last time, the softness and wetness surrounding him utterly overwhelming. Byleth outright moaned aloud as Sothis sank carefully onto him, the overwhelming arousal and heat surrounding his cock too much to think on. Sothis, that cute and downright  _ adorable _ girl, began to roll her hips and thighs, and any commentary Byleth had to make immediately devolved to a series of gasps and small pants; his hands still under hers, her weight on him, her warmth on him, her lips on his. His thoughts were entirely on Sothis, and he didn’t hate it for a second.

Sothis eagerly lapped at his tongue as her hips and core moved over him, her fingers tightening into his wrists as they made it; minutes passed in delicious, turgid friction, her fingers pressing into the flesh below his hands -- Byleth didn’t care. As Sothis’ fingers tightened, so did her inner walls around his cock, the passion she obviously felt from their union bleeding in more than one degree to his flesh; Byleth moaned into her tongue as she squeezed him tighter in every respect, their slow rhythm nothing but perfect.

“Oh, gods, Byleth,” Sothis moaned into his mouth, her hair cascading into his face damp with sweat. “You’re mine, aren’t you? You’re so good at making me feel like this, I don’t know how to react,” she panted, and her voice was fraught. “Oh, please, you’re mine, so make me yours too, I’m close, so close, all for you--”

Byleth felt her grip slackening around his wrists, and he made the next move, his hands breaking free from her flimsy restraint, shooting from under her binds to grasp her back and hips. As his hands took her body Sothis gasped in pleasure and need, her voice high pitched, his pace inside her quickening, the girl becoming insensate under the quickening pace of his cock inside her.

“G-Gods,” Sothis groaned, breathless, close, “B-Byleth-- y-you’re meant to-- ahhh, I’mmm--”

Sothis, naked atop him, was clearly coming close, and with his cock inside her and his broad hands around her, the green-haired goddess was coming apart, panting his name as her own climax built. The ribbons in her hair were sweaty and damp, the ones around her wrists trailing limply as Byleth took her harder now, his own hands doing the inverse of hers, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her back and her rear. Sothis yelped as his digits teased her flesh, his breaths coming short like hers, their congress together building in each of them.

“Aaaaaah, Byleth, I’m, I’m going to-- I’m, oh, yes, now--”

The friction came undone inside her with a rush, and Sothis felt it peaking inside her with a stifled scream, swooping down to bite into Byleth’s neck, her inside walls contracting like a vice around Byleth’s cock. 

“Byleth,” she sobbed into his skin, “Byleth, I’m  _ coming _ for you, again, yes--”

“Don’t hold back,” Byleth hissed, “I’m yours, come for me and come hard, Sothis.”

Her eyes were wet, but of passion, and not sadness; her insides clamped tight around him as she came around his cock, that marvellous way he was apparently  _ so good  _ at making her feel, even as she could feel him twitching and thrusting up into her too, her impatience causing her to come first as he sought his own end with her. As Sothis half-panted, half-screamed into his shoulder, Byleth sent his hands to her back, close himself as she came around him, his own climax threatening itself upon him.

“Oh, Sothis,” he breathed, short of breath as his own end came, “I’m-- me too, you know--”

Sothis near-bit into his shoulder, her own feelings just hotly peaking in her, and the unsteady way he made her body feel rendered her unable to do much more than blankly kiss at his skin. 

“Now, now, now,” she whispered, urging him closer, and Byleth felt his features tighten, the end of him not far away. “Come for me, too,” Sothis whispered, and with the incorporeal-come-corporeal girl in his arms, Byleth hilted himself inside her, and let himself go to what she did to him so expertly.

“Oh, ah, G-Sothis, I-I’m, I’m coming for you--”

Sothis moaned full-voicedly as Byleth came inside her, his seed filling her up as she kissed blankly at his neck; Byleth distantly felt her lips on his skin, a wet embrace of warmth as he erupted inside her, all else inconsequential but the way she made him feel. 

As the breath left him, a distant shattering of glass, and Sothis’ look was  _ wicked. _

“B-By-  _ my byleth-- _ that was far too good to stop at just one--”

Reality shattered in a cobalt frieze, and as Sothis wrenched back the hands of time, Byleth found himself mere minutes ago, and that damnable need was back inside the both of them, bodies ragged and sweaty.

“S-Sothis--”

“I told you,” she panted, and her need was afire in her again, too. “As many times as we can.”

The man grunted as he acquiesced, and Sothis let him take the lead this time, as his hands met her hips and dragged her into his cock in a way they both didn’t want to prevent. Sothis squealed as Byleth fucked her now, the unrelenting assault of his cock inside her so good, so needed, and she felt herself slackening under his arms, keen on nothing but coming again for the man she loved so hard.

It didn’t take long for either of them, again, Sothis unable or unwilling to turn time back too far, and most of the work had been done for both of them already. 

“I love you,” Sothis whispered, a litany as she found her peak. “I love you.”

Byleth nipped at her ear, which only redoubled the speed of her whispering as she came undone. “I love you, Sothis, let’s come together--”

Nothing else was needed. The goddess atop him began to shake and convulse, again; her own climax emerging for a second time as her lover came inside her, his hot, strong liquid strands entering her in a way she’d not got used to at all, ignoring the fact it’d happened mere minutes ago. Sothis pushed her lips to his as she climaxed, her green hair cascading over his face, Byleth blankly grasping at her flesh as the goddess let go around his own desperately pleasurable end. Sothis moaned into his mouth, her hips pounding weakly at his as the sensation peaked within her; she came and she came  _ loud _ , screaming invisibly as his semen invaded her insides. Her thighs became loose and shaky under his hands as she thrust raggedly onto him, Byleth making her come unprecedentedly strong for a second time, her body following up the overwhelming sensation in her with a series of insensate reactions.

“Again,” was all Sothis could whisper, and again time wrenched backward--

The exhaustion came back with them, too, but they chased another end out with each other, all modesty and propriety gone in favour of their mutual need. Sothis panted like a wreck as Byleth took their lead now, the succession of climaxes wearing her out already even as they chased the next. It didn’t take much, again. Byleth and Sothis, joined at their cores; nothing but need for each other filling their senses. 

“I’m not far off, again,” Byleth gasped, and Sothis could do little but mutely nod back in a flurry of sweaty hair. 

“Ah, Byleth, this is exhausting, but, so good, please, make me yours again--”

If the terse feeling that Sothis’ warm, wet insides engendered hadn’t been a factor, Byleth might have been able to climax just from her blush alone; the girl’s face was strewn and messy, and her lips messily kissed at his with a hunger he didn’t know she could have. They continued together, synchronised at the third go, the building tensions growing for each other in a series of moans and clutched hands. The two of them were so close, and trying desperately to grasp as much skin in that pursuit as possible. Sothis, hugging and panting into Byleth’s neck in a desperate attempt to make him know she wanted him, rode atop him, even as Byleth dug his fingers into her shoulders, hands grasping her soft, supple flesh, his fingertips white as he clutched her as he came for her yet again.

The rites of orgasm overcame both, the two gasping into each other as they crested their own sensational peak, undoing each other around each other as they could. Sothis gripped Byleth’s shoulders as she came, and came hard, the girl pressing herself into him as she climaxed, the professor pushing up into her all the while. Byleth thrust desperately into Sothis’ folds, his cock urgent, needy,  _ coming, _ and as he let go utterly for a  _ third time _ Sothis was filled with his hot, white come, the girl shrieking around his member in pleasure.

They came down with each other, utterly spent, and Sothis’ breath was too short to rewind the clock, this time, instead lying insensate on her lover’s body, the breath tickling his chest.

Byleth rubbed slowly at her shoulder, quite exhausted himself, and he reflected on a question that came unbidden to his mind--

Was it better to have a lover nobody else could see, or one that nobody else could hear?

“Cretin,” Sothis murmured, and her voice was short on breath and completely free from vitriol. “You know I can hear what you think.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's very hard to remember not to include apostrophe'd words in Sothis' dialogue. I've caught myself slipping a fair number of times!
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	7. Disclosures in the Rose Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth chooses a house, and thinks about how much to tell his new house leader.

“Lady Edelgard,” Hubert began, joining the eponymous woman at the dining table, “I fear that if you tease that food on your plate any further with your fork you are wont to drive a hole into it.”

The bright morning light did little to disguise her equerry’s usual pallor, his tone carefully clipped as ever, even if it was just the two of them. Hubert and Edelgard sat at one end of a trestle table in the dining room. Edelgard’s summons to the seat of power in the monastery had delayed her breakfast, the lateness of which had given the two friends and allies essentially the run of space in the dining hall.

“Distressing news from the Archbishop’s early summons, perhaps? If there are problems--”

“I am just processing her news,” Edelgard sighed, tossing her fork onto the plate where it landed in a rearranged soup of a breakfast meal. “Her pronouncement has given me matters to think on.” 

The future empress glanced around, and seeing they were relatively alone, leaned forward, voice dropping conspiratorially. 

“If you remember, Hubert, I spoke of that mercenary who came in yesterday with myself, von Riegan and the Faerghan prince. The one who killed our little... set-up, so thriftily. Byleth, his name is.”

“I remember you informing me,” Hubert sniffed, eating his own breakfast quite methodically, seemingly with no pleasure. “As you said, son of the strongest Captain of the Knights of Seiros in living memory and apparently quite unstoppable with a blade himself.”

Edelgard nodded. “It turns out that the Archbishop formally announced to myself and the other house leaders this morning that she is going to ask this hitherto-unknown teal-haired man to teach one of the classes this year. It is not a  _ problem, _ Hubert. It is an  _ opportunity. _ ”

“I fail to see how someone so fast in the Archbishop’s good graces could be considered that way, Lady Edelgard. He sounds entirely like someone who should be taken out of the equation as quickly as possible. I could--”

The future Emperor looked at her retainer and shook her head quickly. “You did not see him fight,” she murmured. “The man fought like a demon.”

“I have heard that this is what they call him,” Hubert sneered. “The  _ Ashen Demon.  _ A ghastly name for a ghastly man already in thrall to the Archbishop. I entreat you, let me poison him. It would be faster than inviting one of the Church’s kin to watch us for the year.”

“Titles like his do not come unearned,” the girl counterargued. “For us to have such a powerful ally… if he could be turned against the Church, he would be an invaluable asset.” 

“An asset who ruins our plans and eliminated any chance of Jeritza taking our class.” Hubert sniffed. “I fail to see how this is more than wishful thinking, Lady Edelgard.”

Edelgard sighed, and she pushed her plate away. “I want Byleth Eisner teaching the Black Eagles, Hubert. If nothing else, it will let us keep a better eye on him. After breakfast, I want you to find him and send him to me before that snake Riegan embeds his eager Alliance fangs into the man. I’ll be in the formal hall, waiting. You are to under no circumstances stab him in the back.”

Her retainer’s lips thinned, and whilst he delivered her a curt nod, she could see plainly he disagreed. “It will be done, Lady Edelgard,” he merely stated. “I suppose at least he can be thanked for removing the last living trace of the failed removal plot. In that regard, you must thank him.”

Edelgard stared indecisively at her plate. Her appetite was not presenting itself, the odd knot of some emotion in her stomach replacing any semblance of the desire to eat. Was it nervousness? It coiled within her like a fist. Dutifully, she shovelled a few desultory forkfuls of breakfast into her mouth and swallowed. 

“I think I shall. Kostas unfortunately did not keep to his orders, and charged me as well as the rest of them. In that regard, Byleth Eisner saved my life when he decapitated the man.” Edelgard pushed her chair back and looked down at Hubert. “Having had a chance to listen to his words yesterday, he did posit that there was some deeper cause, before he let the topic slide. His father seemed quite surprised that he even talked with us to any length of time. Frankly, I suspect he is too naive to interfere with what we plan. If that proves not to be the case, I will accede to your earlier request.”

A twinkle in the pallid man’s pale green eye, and he delivered a slight nod.

Edelgard picked up her plate and dismissed herself, clearing her half-eaten food to the bus point. As she made her way out into the morning sunshine, the princess found herself trying to keep her balling fingers out of her palms.

* * *

Byleth’s day had started very pleasantly; being sprawled in a comfortable bed with a naked Sothis sprawled over him under the covers was becoming a common occurrence, and one that seemed to become even more welcome by the day. The two of them had woken slowly with a few shared kisses, and the memories of last night had made the fury Byleth had felt yesterday seem like a distant memory.

Staying in bed seemed like a tempting option, and Sothis herself had suggested that they had, but Byleth had countered with the fact that today they had to choose a house to lead, as if that choice weren’t already preordained.

As they made their way into the light of another day in the Great Tree Moon from their quarters, Hubert unclad himself from the shadows nearby and began slinking towards the pair of them.

“Good morning, Mr. Eisner,” Hubert announced, in his usual brooding way. “The Princess von Hresvelg requests the pleasure of an audience this morning. Are you otherwise engaged? She is very keen to speak with you.”

_ Hm, I don’t remember her sending someone to track me down the last time Rhea asked me to choose a class. _

“You must have made an impression,” Sothis replied. “Time will tell whether good or bad.”

“Mr. Eisner?” The awkward silence being broken reminded Byleth that he needed to reply to people who couldn’t read his thoughts.

“Ah, yes, good morning. Hubert von Vestra, isn’t it? I was planning to get some breakfast, but it’s nothing so serious that can’t wait, and besides, if your Princess has a lot to discuss, maybe it’d be better in case a lunch might be involved. Anyway. Yes, I’m willing to come.”

If Hubert had been surprised the stranger knew his name already he hid it very well, Byleth thought. The barest tilt of his head gave it away.

_ Reading these people is much easier now that I've spent so much time with them. _

Hubert motioned towards the monastery buildings. 

“Excellent, follow me. She is in the main formal hall. I will escort you.”

“Thank you,” Byleth replied.

“You had better make the most of this, Byleth," Sothis remarked. "This is the only time for a while he’ll be walking in front of you. And visibly."

_ You’re not wrong. _

The monastery grounds were full of students, and with classes not due to start for seemingly a day or two yet, those enrolled at the Officers’ Academy this year were busy making fast friends with each other or running to-and-fro exploring the grounds. A warmth filled Byleth as he walked behind Hubert. Goddess, but he really had missed this.

Hubert brought Byleth to his charge as she’d requested, delivering what Byleth thought was an unnecessarily deep bow as he did so. 

“Lady Edelgard, I present Byleth Eisner. And to you, Mr. Eisner, Lady Edelgard von Hresvelg.”

Edelgard made a small gesture at her retainer with a thin smile, and Hubert had served her for enough years to know even a subtle tell. 

“Enjoy your conversation, Lady Edelgard. I will be in the Black Eagles classroom should you need me further.” With that, he turned silently on a heel and melted into the student body.

_ He really does have a talent for moving silently. _

“Ah, good morning, Professor,” Edelgard began. “As introduced, I am Edelgard von Hresvelg, heir apparent to the Adrestian Empire. Though, I would prefer it if you called me Edelgard. I understand you are to teach a class this year at the Officers’ Academy. May I then address you as Professor?”

Byleth smiled. It was good to hear the old epithet again.

“Everyone does. Or will, rather. I, uh, got the gist that it was usual from the other faculty.”

Edelgard smiled gently at him. “The Archbishop informed myself and the other house leaders that you would be taking on the responsibility of--”

She felt her brow furrow as Byleth seemed to subtly wince at the mention of the Archbishop, before she caught herself as his eyes opened. Curious. Edelgard, so practiced at courtly etiquette, attempted to put her friendliest smile on, before continuing.

“of teaching-- ah, I am sorry if you wanted it to be a surprise, Professor, but she informed the house leaders only. I apologise if you are uncomfortable around prospective students.”

The professor shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s…” He tailed off.

_ Should I tell her, Sothis? _

“You have to tell her that you and Rhea aren’t going to get on eye-to-eye at some point,” Sothis replied. “Why not now? It might build trust.”

Byleth coughed awkwardly to cover the brief silence. “Excuse me. It is not that. Merely that… the Archbishop and I are not particularly on the same page on a number of things.”

Edelgard looked at the mercenary’s face, but whereas yesterday he’d seemed quite amenable to travelling to the monastery, this morning he seemed… tight? At the mention of the Archbishop? There were telltale signs of discomfort in his face, and Edelgard found herself becoming more curious. A small voice inside her told her that maybe this could work.

“Might we speak somewhere more… private, Edelgard?” Byleth asked, as he seemingly scanned the room. “I would not speak of it here. I know you know how likely students are to gossip. I’m happy to answer any questions you have, as I hope you’ll answer mine about some of the students.”

_ Not that she could tell us anything we don’t know about them already. _

Sothis yawned next to both of them. “Five gold that she suggests the tea pavilion.” 

_ Take this seriously, Sothis. You’re constantly bugging me to. _

“Of course,” Edelgard said after a moment, comporting herself and disguising the motion in a correction of her already-perfect hair. She gestured widely towards the far end of the hall. “Perhaps in the gardens? They are just this way. If you’d like to follow me?”

“Lead the way,” Byleth nodded, and fell into step beside the Black Eagle.

“Told you,” Sothis chirped, grinning fiercely as they walked.

* * *

That odd sense of nervousness worked at Edelgard’s stomach as they walked, and she found herself giving small, curious glances at the taller man walking beside her. She clutched an unseen fist and inwardly cursed at herself. Byleth mercifully either didn’t seem to notice or just didn’t react.

The black-clad man seemingly knew where the rose arbor and pavilion was already, and as they walked together through the black wrought-iron gate he turned to her with an open hand, gesturing towards one of the more secluded tables. The garden was virtually empty, with nobody Edelgard knew nearby, and besides, the table he’d chosen was far away enough from any of them there was no danger of being overheard. She politely sat down as Byleth dragged over a third chair to their hedgeside table, setting it on the third side. Edelgard raised an eyebrow.

“Are we expecting somebody to join us?”

_ In a manner.  _

Sothis took the hint and sat in the third chair next to Edelgard. “If only she knew,” she giggled, drumming her fingers on the table. 

“It will make us look occupied and turn away the nosy,” Byleth replied, taking his own seat. 

“Ah,” Edelgard nodded. It didn’t make complete sense to her, but she was willing to accept it.

Byleth looked carefully across at Edelgard, and the girl was already giving him that evaluating look again. Had she done that the first time they’d talked about classes? Byleth couldn’t remember it being this intense. 

_ Then again, I didn’t hint at problems with the Archbishop, last time. _

“No, you certainly did not,” Sothis sighed. “Well, this should be a conversation.”

“So,” Byleth began, “Rhea.”  _ Even her name tastes ashen.  _ “Whilst I am very grateful she has offered me the position of teaching one of the houses, it is apparent to me she has done so for her own purposes and to keep me at the monastery. To that end, I would like to teach your house this year, because…”

_ Because last time I did, you convinced me of your goals, and now I can trust Rhea less than I could throw her.  _

“...because it is also apparent to me that you yourself, Edelgard, are not unsuspicious of her and the Church.”

As Edelgard made to make an instant rebuttal he raised a hand. “Edelgard. Please hear me out. I do not say such a thing with any malice. I… I have a lot of secrets. Perhaps you suspected this already; it is not everyday that you meet an unknown mercenary stronger than many you have ever met. However, so do you. You are the heir to the Adrestian Empire. I would love absolutely nothing more than to bare myself wholly to you today, but I suspect doing so will lead to you distrusting me and Hubert slipping something into my tea at night that ends up with me floating in the Airmid river face-down the next day. I enjoy fishing, but not so much with my unresponsive body.”

This was an answer Edelgard had not expected in the least. He’d been candid about his dislike for the Archbishop, but also he’d been here a  _ day _ and he knew she didn’t trust him? And he held secrets that could turn her against him that he’d just admit to? She hoped against hope he wasn’t indebted to the Archbishop in some way; her mind whirled with possibilities. 

“Professor. I appreciate your candour about Lady Rhea. I will admit there are some things that do not sit well with me regarding the Church. As for these secrets, should they give me reason to distrust you? I am glad to hear that you wish to teach the Black Eagles, but if you are hiding an unsavoury past or things unsuitable for a role as a teacher I would ask that I know.”

“ _ Some things  _ about the Church?” Sothis snorted. “How about ‘everything’?”

Byleth mentally waved her off.  _ This was so much easier when I had no idea about anything to come.  _

“Nothing like that, Edelgard,” he replied. “I brought you here because there are four words you need to hear from me:  _ I am not Rhea’s _ . I never will be.”

The house leader blinked, taken aback at his expression and the quiet fury in his voice. Inside, her thoughts were thrown into turmoil. Edelgard looked at his face and was surprised to see something she’d recognised in herself, after meeting her own unsavoury allies. 

Thinly disguised contempt.

“Professor Byleth… I, I did not mean to suggest otherwise.”

“I promise you that I am not your enemy, Edelgard. Over the coming weeks I will demonstrate that I can teach your class to the highest standard. I--” and here, Byleth smiled, amused, “I have undertaken some successful teaching work before. I hope that we can begin to trust each other as professor and student, if not more.”

Edelgard pursed her lips. This man did not lack for confidence. Her eyes looked into his, searching keenly for the slimy deceit shown by creatures like Arundel, but all that gazed back at her were a pair of honest blue irises… ones that looked keenly at her for her to say yes.

“Very well,” Edelgard nodded, after a few moments. “I was keen for you to take our class, which is why I requested this meeting. Your ability is unquestioned, and will be invaluable in the mock battle in a few days’ time. I think… I think there is a lot the Eagles can learn from you, and I hope to engender this trust you seek given time.”

“Good.” Byleth leaned forward, expression serious. “There are a lot of things I can tell you about the Church, Edelgard. None of them good. or has been good to me. I... “

He looked at Sothis for help, who just shrugged.  _ Not my place to talk about the church, is it? _ she mouthed. 

“When we trust each other, you understand? Though I ask, it goes without saying that you shouldn’t repeat any of this conversation. I’d probably be executed for heresy.”

“As if I would let them,” Sothis sighed.

Edelgard felt her pulse race as she registered the depth of the man’s distrust in the Church. Whatever he was hiding, it seemed big, and the bitterness in him perhaps ran deeper. That may make him useful.

“Of course, this conversation will go no further,” Edelgard nodded, and then leaned back in her chair, surprised to find how intently she had leaned forward to listen. “I look forward to a constructive year with you, Professor.”

Byleth smiled, the tension dissipating. “Edelgard, if only you knew the half of what you will learn this year.”

The girl opposite him allowed herself a small smile at his bravado. “Well then, if your choice is firm, would you know about any of the Black Eagles students this year? My house can be… difficult at times, but they are all honest souls.”

“Caspar, Dorothea, Linhardt, Bernadetta, Petra, Hubert, Ferdinand,” Byleth rattled off on a set of fingers. “And of course you, Edelgard, last but not least.”

“Stop showing off, Byleth,” Sothis grinned, invisible, kicking her short legs back and forth under the chair. “Look, she is thrown off, just as you got her trust. Do not mess around!”

Edelgard’s eyes widened a little. When on earth did the man have time to meet any of them yet? 

“Impressive knowledge,” she replied; it seemed his memory matched his sword skills. “Did you see some kind of roster for our classroom? Have you been introduced to any of them, yet? I would be glad to help you put faces to names.”

_ Oh, I only was with you all for years. _

“Something like that. And no, I haven’t been introduced. Perhaps after our discussion here, we can go to your classroom? And then lunch?”

“That would please me a great deal,” Edelgard replied, and they left the gardens to make their way to the Black Eagle classroom.

Once again, Byleth curiously seemed to know perfectly where everything was.

* * *

Across the monastery, a series of heavy grunts came from the upstairs of the dormitories, heavy banging hitting the walls repeatedly as the pants of exertion intensified.

“Goddess, Hilda, but why on earth did I agree to this,” Claude panted, a heavy, encumbering box of her possessions in his grasp as he tried to manoeuvre her worldly goods through the tight corridor to her assigned room.

“Because you’re the  _ best _ house leader, that’s why!” Hilda chirruped, leaning against the door jamb of her room as he struggled closer. “I’d have got  _ all _ gross and sweaty. And I always appreciate someone who acts like a true gentleman.”

Claude set the box down in her room, feeling that same sweat leaching at his back. 

“You owe me one, Hilda,” he wheezed, hands on his knees. “Just what do you have in there?”

“A lady never tells,” Hilda grinned, and clapped him on the back. “Thank you, Claude.”

“Anything for a scion of House Goneril,” Claude grinned weakly back. “Man, I’d say that was the closest I’d come to dying any time recently but given I dodged a literal horde of bandits yesterday this is only the second-worst thing to happen. Let’s hope it’s not starting a streak.”

Hilda looked at him. “What? Oh, you mentioned last night, that mercenary troupe battle. Yawn. I hope you didn’t let them do too much of the work.”

“Hey now, I got at least five,” Claude replied. “In fact, I  _ led _ the initial escape. Give some credit to the young Alliance heir now, wouldya?”

“Killing people sounds like  _ entirely _ too much work,” the pinkette sighed.

“You should have seen that merc, Byleth. The man was scary, Hilda. One move and guys were flying dead left and right. It was like a force of nature. Or… maybe just the force of his sword.” Claude remembered the carnage, and then how Byleth had gone to passively making conversation with him, a minute after, as if it’d been the most natural thing in the world.

“Ugh, imagine how much fighting it’d take to get that good. Pointless if you ask me.”

“You realise that fighting is an integral part of the curriculum here, don’t you, Hilda?” Claude laughed. “Besides, to let you in on a secret, that  _ merc _ is sticking around here a bit. So maybe you can pick up some tips. Since I doubt you’d ever bother to ask him for a sparring session.”

“Tips sound good,” Hilda sighed. “So is he joining the Knights of Seiros or something?”

Claude winked. “Or something. Try and catch him around the monastery and ask. You have just seen how charming you can be. Just… don’t ask him to move your luggage.”

Hilda snorts. “At least I’m better at it than you, Claude. When you want something it’s super obvious.”

“You wound me, madam,” Claude said, doing a mock swoon. “He’s an interesting one though. Try and put in a good word for the Golden Deer if you see him. I know I will.”

“Okay, fine. But a lady has to unpack first, right?”

“I’ll leave you to it,” he winked, and got out of there before Hilda could ask him for anything else.

Byleth was indeed a curious one. Claude was looking forward to their conversation today. Though, something about the man didn’t come across right. When they’d talked on the journey back to the monastery, he’d seemed… disinterested? Almost as if it were all old hat to him. Maybe it was just life as a mercenary. Maybe he just preferred killing.

Well, whatever. The force of nature wasn’t the only one keeping secrets around here. 

Claude would try to get as many out of him as he could, same insouciant grin on hand.

* * *

Dimitri gasped in exertion as Felix kicked him in the stomach, pulling the lance from his hands and leaving the house leader to fall over, winded. Felix tossed away the training weapons and held out a reluctant hand to help the other man up.

“Thank you, Felix,” Dimitri croaked, taking the hand and hauling himself up, windless.

The other man turned away to put away the weapons. “Pssh. You’re distracted. It was no contest, boar.”

Dimitri gulped down air on his haunches, watching as Felix slid the sword and lance into the racks. “I apologise. Yes, I have been a little. Our house professors are being chosen today. I have just been preoccupied with thoughts about who we might have at homeroom this year.”

Well, that was only partially true. Dimitri had been trying to think of things he could say to convince Byleth to choose the Blue Lion house as his. He had taken Felix’s dismissive invitation to spar in the hope it would jolt some ideas into his head, but it had been an utter failure, being disarmed and knocked down shamefully. If only Dimitri could fight like the new professor… it would make an excellent match, for the martial traditions of the house of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. 

Felix folded his arms. “Ah. Guess you haven’t heard who we’re getting then. Hope it’s not that crabby old Hanneman. He could hold a sword as well as fall over.”

“I have not heard, no, Felix,” Dimitri answered. “I have a preferred candidate, though I cannot tell you who it is. I will say that they would be strong enough to challenge even you.”

“Utterly pointless conversation until we find out, then,” Felix remarked, drolly. “Are you ready for another bout?”

“No, thank you,” the blonde shook his head. “I think I shall go and put these errant thoughts about the professors into action, and see if I can ascertain who is choosing which house.” Dimitri privately hoped that he could think of something convincing by the time he had a conversation with Byleth.

Felix grunted. “I’m fine. Have fun then, prince. Use your best charm. You always do.”

Dimitri nodded, Felix’s ascerbic tone unfortunate to end on. He decided to change the subject. 

“Would you like to join Annette and I for lunch today? She has already invited me.”

“Maybe later,” Felix said, looking away. “I’m going to train some more.”

“Very well,” Dimitri said, and turned to make his way from the training grounds, only a slight disappointment in his mouth.

* * *

As Byleth rounded the Black Eagles classroom, able to accurately introduce himself to everyone unerringly, Edelgard took a moment to pull Hubert outside for a silent word.

“You know, Hubert,” Edelgard whispered hurriedly, “I was right. I think the Professor may hate the Archbishop and the Church more than we do. He virtually confessed as much to me in our discussion in the rose garden this morning.”

Hubert raised an eyebrow. “Why on earth would a man who hated the Church accept this position, then?”

“Perhaps he means to work from the inside, like us. I… I am curiously hopeful, though his motivations, he did not disclose. He would say nothing except that he had ‘secrets’. I would be keen to know what those are. If you could--”

“--shadow him closer than his own sunless doppelganger? I can take care of that duty, of course, Lady Edelgard.”

“Thank you, Hubert. Come to lunch with us and see what you can discern about him, hm?”

“It would be a pleasure,” Hubert bowed. “Let us hope he does not insist on that detestable beast teppanyaki they served yesterday evening.”

Edelgard shuddered. “Let us hope not, indeed. Now, come, we should rejoin the others.”

“As you wish.”

As the duo re-entered the Black Eagles homeroom, the new professor was introducing himself to one particular member, the voice echoing around the room loud enough to make them wince.

“-- Byleth Eisner. And you are F--”

“I am Ferdinand von Aegir, _noble scion_ of the legitimate house of Aegir--”

Edelgard and Hubert let out heavy, silent sighs, and went to rescue the poor man from Ferdinand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Saving your new professor from Ferdinand -- trust building exercise.
> 
> The next few chapters are going to be plot again. It'll have a payoff, I promise.
> 
> Thanks for reading, see you next time.


	8. A Meeting of the Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth and Sothis deal with the second and third House Leaders.

It was not, in the end, beast teppanyaki.

Lunch with the Black Eagles in the dining hall -- once again,  _ his  _ Eagles -- filled Byleth with a strong and immediate sense of nostalgia. The house students weren't the seasoned veterans he’d fought with for years -- far from it -- but the rawness of their characters had echoes of the trained fighters and friends he’d fought Seiros and the Church with, and Byleth found himself subconsciously scanning each of the fresh-faced youths, thinking about how much many of them still needed to change. It was bizarre to think about that change -- that these young people had so much to go through, that he could make so much of a change in their lives. 

Bernadetta had been lured from her room by the pasta salad, skittish still - rather than the swift, efficient sniper Byleth had known. Hubert picked idly at his food merely as an icy equal amongst classmates rather than the right hand to the Emperor of Adrestia. Petra, fiery and independent as Byleth had remembered her, was younger than everyone else, justifying her place as best she could, engaging the rest in an inaccurate but spirited spiel of near-Fódlanese; her animated features engaging so openly with the rest of the Black Eagles Byleth himself was shocked that she’d developed her talents at killing so many years ago.

Or years in the future, rather. It was rather disorienting.

“I can tell you miss them _ , _ ” Sothis said, even as she had taken a wry delight in sitting on the end of the table, knees drawn up as she watched the comings and goings of the hall and the Black Eagles’ proceedings. “These children grew into your friends, did they not?”

_ Yes, they had, _ Byleth thought to Sothis, and his mental thoughts were tinged with the increasingly crushing realisation of their reversal of time. The goddess could feel the bitterness radiating from her partner in a wave.

“I know, I know,” Sothis soothed, immediately, sensing the dejectedness tinging his thoughts, shooting him a wan, reassuring smile invisible to everyone else as Byleth went through the motions to eat and nod.

“I… Byleth, I know that… I know that we have not talked of the friends we left behind,” Sothis pouted, hands drawn around her legs as Byleth set his fork down carefully, attentive to the table, not-attentive-to-her. It came easily to him, again, after so long; Byleth had forgotten the discipline splitting his focus between Sothis and the real world took, but with his goddess back, he was remembering how to do it, how to slipback into his old habits a near-lustrum old. He’d found it easier before, more dispassionate in the face, mind often as blank on answers as Sothis’ even whilst she needled him. This time it was more difficult to keep a poker face.

“This is a bad time, I’m sorry,” Sothis continued, gesturing to the rest. “These are your friends, and still are and will be -- you know so! From what I understand of my power with reversing time, these are still those people you know from the future, or the past, or the future-past; do what you can to make them the friends you knew! You almost know these people more than themselves at this point -- do not languish on what will be, rather commit yourself to do what you will to improve them, will you not?”

Caspar let out a bellowing laugh, distant as the man listened to his Goddess, and Byleth smiled encouragingly.

Sothis slid off the table and walked up behind him, kissing him in the back of the neck. It took all of Byleth’s composure not to react or break out in a blush.

“You can, and must, make those friends again. More strongly this time, if such a thing is possible.”

_I know,_ Byleth replied mentally, trying his best to hold conversation with an animated Caspar even as he held court with Sothis. The blue-haired brawler launched into his next point with an avidly waved fork, and the mercenary took a mental breath. _I know._ _They just had to go through some hard times to get to the future, first. At least this time I might have a better idea of how to lead them through that._

“Good,” Sothis nodded, looking amused at the end of the table. “The time for self-pity has well and truly gone. Edelgard has accepted you as the professor for her group of little fledgelings -- so think on our goals and start working to gain their respect, will you not? Not all of them have seen you fight, yet, and not all of them might be so easily enamoured as our Princess.

The goddess’ features flitted with a wry smile as Caspar’s fork flew in an arc past her shoulder as the story of the heroes the boy had been punctuating gave flight to the historical Adrestian commander his cutlery had been impersonating.

“Well then, do not wait for any further instructions! You may start by making an example of students who lose control of their dinner apparatus…”

* * *

The lunch ended, having been one in which Ferdinand’s atrocious competitiveness had made Byleth smile more than scold, for once, though Byleth knew that nostalgic amusement wouldn’t last very long. Byleth excused himself from Edelgard and the others, content to walk with Sothis through the grounds for a while and let his food settle as they held mental court with each other away from people who demanded he hold conversation with them at the same time.

“So, it seems we -- or at least you -- are sufficiently ingratiated with the Imperial princess, I see?” the green-haired girl hummed. “Hmmm… I think it is time to do the rounds. I am quite amazed that the other two house leaders have not ambushed you already; perhaps they have seen your attention towards Edelgard.”

Byleth let out a sigh, glancing uneasily around the courtyard as if Dimitri and Claude would come rushing from a hedgerow to tackle him to the floor. “I recall wanting to tell Claude to wipe that insincere smile off his face on the ride yesterday,” he said. “As tempting as it is to actually go and do that, there’s not really going to be a good time to have that conversation without him poisoning me. Or at least  _ plotting _ to poison me.”

“He would have to get through me first, of course,” Sothis grinned, sculling backwards in the air next to him as they walked, her gaze sweeping the path behind. “I  _ am _ a literal pair of eyes in the back of your head. Even the elusive von Riegan heir could not elude me.”

Byleth smiled thinly. “I would rather sooner not give him cause. I--”

“Speaking of,” Sothis hummed, “here comes your next assailant. My, what a fetching blue cape.”

The prince of Faerghus had found him at the rose garden. Byleth courteously chose to wave him closer.

Dimitri bowed politely at Byleth as he approached, their chance meeting likely little but. The boy cleared his throat as he stepped forward. “Excuse me, professor. I wondered if I might have a word.”

“Of course, I was just looking around,” Byleth said, though in truth the gardens were not unfamiliar to him at all. The mercenary’s eyes scanned Dimitri’s face in the midday light as the man stood before him. Even now he looked tired, dark rings socketing his eyes like patches, and the boy’s polite, pleading voice only reminded Byleth of the time he’d driven the Sword through this man’s -- no, boy’s -- chest--

The mercenary shivered, and it was not because it was cold. Byleth could re-imagine the deed in exact detail.

“Are you alright, Professor?” Dimitri began in his ineffable, courteous tone. “I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. House Leader to the Blue Lions. I am sorry if my approach to you disturbed your exploration of the gardens.”

“I know,” Sothis began, as she whispered, sensing her partner’s turmoil some feet away, listening to their conversation as the two men parleyed. “It hurt killing him like when Rhea killed you, did it not? He knows nothing of that -- Talk to him as you can, and put that out of your mind!”

_ I… I’ll try. _

A beat passed. “I am sorry, just lost in thought about old times. Speak freely, Dimitri.” And then after another pause, “I am Byleth. Eisner. Son of Jeralt, of the Blade Breakers.”

“I cannot say I am familiar, I regret to say, but I understand his troupe has done a fair share of work in the Kingdom,” Dimitri nodded. “Truth be told, I have overheard that you have pledged yourself to the Adrestian Empire’s house,” he continued, and his voice fell a little, clearly and earnestly crestfallen. “I had hoped to speak with you and convince you otherwise.”

_ His tragedy makes him hurt, Sothis. But he never sought  _ me _ out last time. Perhaps he’ll have something interesting to say. _

“Yes,” Sothis replied, plainly. “It does. Coddling him will not work, I think. Do not be scared to speak openly to him.”

Byleth inclined his head, respectfully acknowledging Dimitri’s statement. “Speak away then, Dimitri,” he said. 

“I would like to entreat you to teach our class this year, Professor,” Dimitri began, and Byleth could see the desire and the entreaty in the boy’s face. “It is not a glamorous class to lead, nor overly in need of a new perspective. I only feel that many in our House would benefit from your excellent martial training and strategic insight. It would be our honour to have you, Professor.”

_ Ah, maybe not. It’s just the usual Faerghus chivalry. Well, I know what he wants to hear. _

“Dimitri. I appreciate your offer, truly. Jer-- My father and I, we did many jobs as mercenaries for the Kingdom of Faerghus. As a new professor of the Academy it’s not for me to divulge faculty information about which house I cho-” Byleth paused, “which house I will choose. Rest assured that I have heard your words and noted them.” 

Dimitri looked away, and for a moment Byleth swore a flit of pain crossed his face, before he was re-greeted with the earnest, smiling house leader.

“It is fine, Professor,” the boy said, and his smile was genuine, as far as Byleth could tell. “I would expect nothing else. Still, if you are not our teacher for this year, I hope you have a productive time at Garreg Mach. It is the finest academy for officers in all the world, and I am sure that you will lend it your expertise.”

“Thank you for your words,” Byleth nodded. “I certainly hope this year is better than some I’ve had.”

_ And I hope I won’t have to drive a sword through your chest, this time. _

* * *

“Well that was enlightening,” Sothis yawned, as the blond-haired boy made a departure after small talk had come to an end.

“Early days,” Byleth sighed. “At least he is more polite than Claude. And less meddling.”

“So, the Alliance heir is next to deal with,” Sothis smiled. “Have you a plan for him?”

“Claude was always one to wheedle and needle to find out my secrets. Goddess -- well, you, Sothis -- you know, we have enough of them to share. Perhaps if I can slip him enough, it’ll keep him off our back for the serious ones.. And if we are to support Edelgard in this timeline again… it would be better to keep him close. Even as annoying and insidious as he is.”

The goddess next to him sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. “You’re going to--”

“Yes,” Byleth replied, nodding as his partner acknowledged the plan. “I’m going to invite him to tea.”

Sothis started laughing, and the two of them strolled through the gardens, intent on finding Ferdinand. Byleth was very sure a few dropped hints would help secure him a tea set of his own.

* * *

As Byleth returned to his quarters with that same teaset he’d received years and years ago, the lacquered box clinking in all of the ways he remembered, the von Riegan heir pounced. Sothis nudged Byleth’s elbow gently with an open hand as Claude approached. 

“Here comes the man in yellow, himself,” she murmured, before floating up to kiss his cheek. “Come find me in your quarters after you’re done,” she continued. “If you can find the energy and wherewithal to deal with these house leaders, I for one lack it, but I’m not one to put you off whilst you deal with the man. Besides, if you do well, I’ll have a reward for you.”

Byleth took a breath to steady himself at that, trying not to flush scarlet, watching as Sothis floated impishly backwards through his door, wide grin on her face the last part to sink incorporeal through the door.

Claude, aware of precisely none of this, closed the distance between him and the new, dishevelled, roguish-loooking professor. The shock of ne’er-do-well teal hair, the loose black vestments, the sword -- it was a good look.Claude almost thought he was handsome, with a certain thief-in-the-night kind of look. That was alright. Claude liked thieves. Especially ones who didn’t brook nonsense.

Doubly e specially ones who looked like they were hiding something.

Byleth didn’t even nod as Claude approached, instead just looking over at the boy, the large wooden box in his arms a convenient excuse not to wave.

Well, to be more accurate, Claude sauntered, as usual; right up to the mercenary, leaning against the wall, the cocksure and trademark grin plastered on his face.

It didn’t meet his eyes, quite, but Claude didn’t know that Byleth knew that.

“‘Sup Teach,” came the Alliance teen’s easy, practiced greeting. “What’s in the box?”

Byleth set down the box carefully on the ground by the door of his quarters, china inside clacking as he did so. “Hello, Claude. It is a tea set. Ferdinand gave it to me.”

“That redhead from the Black Eagles, right? Hm, guess some of these noble kids would be into the high society stuff. Still, you must have made a good first impression with them if you’re milking them for stuff already.”

“You could say that,” Byleth replied. “You know I’ve been offered a teaching position here.” 

Claude didn’t react, looking at Byleth impassively.

Byleth paused. “I know you’ve come to persuade me to your house. I’m sorry, Claude. I can’t.”

If Claude was disappointed, he masked it decently. “Ouch. Outright rejected, huh?”, he started. “I must say, I was looking forward to a more dynamic year than one led by Hanneman. Can’t I...”

“The Black Eagles,” Byleth interrupted. “I know what you would say. That your class is an easier, more laid back time. Like you. They are perhaps not as easy a bunch as your Golden Deer, but that is why I am likely to choose them.”

Claude snorted. “Pfft. As if. You know you can just come out and say if you’re sweet for the Princess.”

The mercenary started down Claude, and the other man held the gaze for a moment, before blinking. 

“Huh, maybe not.” And then Claude’s indecision turned back into insouciance. The von Riegan’s hands went behind his head as he shrugged his shoulders, seeing Byleth’s resolute, plain expression. 

“Well, I’m good enough at diplomacy to know you can’t be convinced,” Claude sighed. “The Alliance isn’t  _ that _ foreign for mercs, you know.”

“I’m a mercenary, Claude. I’m very aware of the political divides in Fódlan. It’s nothing personal.” Byleth made a show of looking around, as if glancing for anyone overhearing. “Besides,” Byleth said, lowering his voice a tone, “I’m a professor now, it seems. That makes me available to teach all the students of the monastery. If you ever need any help with your tuition, you’re more than happy to flag me down outside of class hours.”

Claude looked at the man evenly, his mind seeming to gauge the best response. 

“That so?” Claude eventually replied. “Well, I’ll wager a merc like you has got his fair share of learning outside this place too, you know? Maybe I’ll come pick your brain sometime, learn a bit more about life outside the monastery.”

“Find me in the gardens tomorrow after class. I’d like to know more about this place, too. We’ll have tea.”

_ That _ threw Claude off, and the smile was gone from his face for a moment. “... A mercenary wants me to come to  _ tea _ ? Wow, Teach, that princess has really rubbed off fast on you. Who knew that the rough-and-tumble fighters had an appetite for garden ceremonies? You _ are _ full of surprises.”

“Tomorrow,” Byleth said, bluntly, gesturing at the ground-set teaset. “Come to tea. Goddess knows this etiquette set costs enough to sit in the box.”

“You literally received it for free, Byleth,” a muffled, Sothisian voice came filtered through the shut door.

_ Shhh. _ “Some of us hold our cards close, Claude,” Byleth continued. “Or at least, we try to. We share that. So, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure,” the student replied, and as Byleth busied himself with his own door, Claude excused himself, and loped away with that same smile; unseen to Byleth, it turned to a grimace on his face, and Claude’s thoughts were already whirling regarding this strange new teacher.

* * *

“Yes, yes, it was free, fine,” Byleth said, rubbing his temples as he pushed the door open to his own chambers with his back, hefting the heavy china set in. Or, he supposed, his and Sothis’ chambers. 

Sothis, that green-haired goddess, was already gesticulating, ready to launch into a spiel--

“You see, Claude has been dealt with,” Byleth sighed, slumping on the bed, a grumpy-looking goddess hefting up from her prone position, up behind him, beginning to rub his shoulders with a frown.

“This is not circumspect,” Sothis scowled, nonetheless kneading at Byleth’s shoulders. “Another tea-time where I will have to sit and hum, with Claude von  _ Riegan _ no less--”

Byleth raised a hand. “No.”

Sothis ceased rubbing his shoulders.

“Not that,” Byleth sighed. “I won’t put you through that. Claude… He is a conniving sort, but…” Byleth bit his lip. “I think I know what he wants.”

“Conquest of all of Fódlan?” Sothis said, digging her fingers firmly back into Byleth’s back; the man winced under her sudden motion. “Alliance conquest? Ailell, his naked ambition would lead him to do what he wants, if you don’t--” Sothis cut off as the man under her fingers winced.

“ _ Not that _ ,” he said quickly. “Ouch. Claude wants information. And I know just what to feed him, since we’re here again? Last time I was here, didn’t I ask you why he skulked about the library at odd hours?”

Sothis’ jaw jutted out, the girl clearly unhappy. “ _ Claude _ can’t be relied to speak honestly,” she scowled, words spitting. “If he crawls the library, he wants information, on Fodlan,” Sothis scowled. “Ah, I see. Give him what he wants, just exact your price,” she sighed.

“I will,” Byleth said, mouth curling upwards at the realisation. “I’ll do what I must with Claude. He wants to know about the Church. We’ve got new reasons not to particularly like that institution, and I won’t mind sharing a few with him. I doubt he’ll ever be putty in my hands, but at least he might not poison me.”

“I hope for our sake that is the case,” Sothis chided. “Having Edelgard on side so early… it is welcome, but also difficult. You know that she is already appraising you--”

Byleth cleared his throat gently as his smile widened. “Yes, she is. I’d forgotten that she did that.”

Sothis’ brow furrowed. “She does. Even as an eloquent tale as you can tell this time, Byleth, she is still shaping you up. I…” Sothis paused, uncertain. “Do I need be worried about  _ her,  _ Byleth?”

Byleth hit her gently in her silk-clad thigh, the floating goddess wincing at his faux-hit.

“Come on,” Byleth scowled. “Jealousy does not become you. You know as well as I do that Edelgard wants power to enact change. She wants authority more than anything and she wants people to follow her. And she’s probably terrified because of her machinations. I’ve already taken care of that bandit leader she stupidly hired; I’ll do my best to guide her to be the best she can be and not resort to dumb plans.With the events that are coming. I promise I would never pick her over you, Sothis.”

This seemed to please the girl, and she nodded with a  _ hmph. _

Byleth supposed that was good enough.

“Good!” she continued after a moment. “I promised you a reward, did I not? Come, close your eyes and count to thirty.” Sothis leaned in and whispered the last part directly into his ear. “I think it would be a suitable test of your reciprocated feelings.”

When Byleth opened his eyes a half-minute later, he realised that it was a good thing he’d already dealt with both of the other House leaders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am profusely sorry about the length of time it has taken me to get a new chapter to you -- far longer than I would like. A twofold problem, in that current events have not made it easy to sit down and focus on writing; when I had, I had written myself into a huge corner that took a lot of rewriting and rearranging of scenes. Both of these mean that this chapter is shorter than usual and ends on a cliffhanger. Rest assured that in the vein of this story, the next chapter will make up for it in the consummation stakes.
> 
> Nonetheless I hope you enjoyed this one; as some of you have noted in the comments of previous chapters, Byleth being more than an uninformed idiot, and having a huge axe to grind against certain characters, will lead to a radical departure from things in the future.


End file.
